


Back

by discoballDust



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Adulting, Alternate Universe - College/University, And Everything Nice, Angst, Childhood Friends, Daddy Issues, Friends With Benefits, Growing Up, Happy Ending, M/M, Martial Arts, Pining, Roommates, Russian Spy School, Spice, Sugar, Villainous Atobe, dumbassery, ghosting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2020-10-27 19:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 51,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20765705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discoballDust/pseuds/discoballDust
Summary: ("College AU")On a nice day in his third year of middle school, Mukahi Gakuto was ripped away from his life at Hyotei, never to be seen or heard from again... Until he reappears in Tokyo four years later.As if the struggles of adulting weren't enough, he, his roommate Hiyoshi, and their friends  must confront the ghosts of their pasts, becauseoh—they're back.(In celebration of OshiGaku day, September 28, 2019)





	1. PART 1 - Chem 101

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This work includes smut, fighting (martial arts)/violence, villainous Atobe, family drama, youthful angst, and some odd implied pairings at times. I cried a lot writing this so you better get emotional too. 
> 
> Thank you for reading my big baby, AKA College AU. I hope you enjoy!

****= **PART 1** =

Oshitari Yuushi could not believe his eyes.

It was his first introductory chemistry course in university, and the professor’s speech was the last thing on his mind. The entire 50 minutes he couldn’t for one second take his eyes off the back of someone’s head.

At first he reasoned. Sure, it could be anyone. A girl, maybe, with hair dyed and a similar cut. But when the person turned to retrieve something from their bag, the way their hair flipped on the turn, the way they arched their back to give their arm the final reach for the pen at the bottom–

It was all too familiar, and his stomach sank.

_Don’t jump to conclusions_.

Maybe a lot of short people move like that. Flexible, short people. And the hair flip could just be… Physics of that hairstyle. 

It was perfectly plausible.

But Yuushi knew better than to ignore his instincts, to lie to himself about this. He was playing it safe, of course. Oshitari Yuushi wasn’t one to see patterns where there weren’t, but you never know– Especially since he had never really stopped looking, just keeping an eye out, for years.

Class droned on, and Yuushi was lucky he already knew the content, because he might as well have had the volume off. All he could do was stare. The figure stretched their arms behind their head, pulling at their own elbows, then slouched forward to lean on them.

If that was a woman, it was a very toned woman with very muscular shoulders.

It was him. After four years, there he was, Mukahi Gakuto, the life he ruined, several rows in front of him in a science lecture.

_Chemistry._ Yuushi had to laugh under his breath. Of course, Gakuto loved chemistry. In junior high. Why was it so odd that he might be at a university in Japan taking a chemistry class? A class that Yuushi only just signed up for, last minute, for an easy credit.

By god, what are the odds?

_Fate._ Yuushi shook that off. They were adults now. His favorite romance tropes did not belong here. What he needed was a plan of action. A confrontation, though not usually his style, was imperative. The sooner, the better.

Hopefully, his old best friend didn’t still bolt upon the end of every class. 

= = =

Yuushi on occasion knew to choose his words carefully. But rarely was he ever... Speechless. There he was, standing in front of him, just as short. Well, not really. He had grown, but so had Yuushi, and the height gap was yet another scream of familiarity. He was standing right in front of him, looking at his phone, and_ oh_, 

it was him alright.

Yuushi willed himself to speak, to say something, anything, before it was too late. “Ah-” 

And then Gakuto turned around and, startled to see someone standing there, he blinked.

And helplessly, as helpless as Yuushi ever felt (which always seemed to involve the same person), he watched Gakuto widen his eyes and drop his chin.

“Yuushi?”

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t for Gakuto to drop his bag and hug him with startling strength. The massive swarm of students flowed around them, but Yuushi didn’t care. He hugged Gakuto back, owing him that much and more. Maybe a little harder than he meant to, no holding back, no point in hiding how much he missed him. Yuushi tried his best to express himself but he was a different person, murmuring, unsure that the words were getting out– something like “‘m so s’ry.” 

Gakuto pulled away and grabbed his wrist, as if to keep Yuushi from running off (of which he had no intention). He reached his free hand down and grabbed his bag. “Yuushi, look at me,” a soft command. As if he could ever look away. Gakuto’s eyes were still bright, electric, but he definitely looked a little older. What was round had sharpened, but all the lines and slopes of his face stayed smooth. That same fire wasn’t there, the any-minute-I-might-explode energy that made him unpredictable, or irritable to some. As Yuushi knew him, he was a rubber band ready to snap, but seeing him now he had gained control. Yuushi felt his own composure crumbling, something that hadn’t happened in years, but surely this was an occasion if any. Finally, Gakuto opened his mouth. He was so calm and mature when he spoke, Yuushi thought he’d suffer whiplash.

“Yuushi,” he said, trapping his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.” He smiled, he was so earnest, and Yuushi was breathless, frozen. His open mouth must have communicated something, because Gakuto gave him a knowing look. “You wanna get lunch?” All Yuushi could do was nod.

= = =

The two fell in step instinctually. They exchanged essentials.

“I couldn’t communicate with anyone, it was… Intense. Everything was screened, so I couldn’t reach out. I really wanted to, Yuushi.” Gakuto shrugged, not shy to face him. “I’m sorry.”

Still dizzy, really wishing he could get it together, Yuushi “hah”ed in disbelief. “Why are you apologizing to me?” He had no idea how to begin his own apologies, and now this? He never expected Gakuto to end up so...cool about it. That was Yuushi’s rap, he reminded himself. _I’m not usually like this. No, I’m never like this._ Flustered. 

Gakuto frowned. “I was worried, Yuushi. I was worried that you blamed yourself.”  
Yuushi’s mouth twitched, a sick smile, all the confirmation required. 

“I never blamed you, though. Get it through your head. I promise. Right before he came in was the best part,” Gakuto stuttered very subtly at the admission, “It was the silver lining, you know? It kept me going a little, as creepy as it sounds.”

Yuushi turned to him in wonder. 

“I… Ah, please don’t take this the wrong way, this was years ago, I’m not…” Gakuto took a breath and tried again. “I had really strong feelings, you know? He would have found out eventually, even if it wasn’t you… I’m glad it was. You.” 

Yuushi was officially losing his mind, all sanity had vacated the premises. His head heavy. “And I’m lucky it was just the first time. Before I lost something even more. Than my best friend. And everyone else, of course.” Gakuto chuckled nervously. 

“Please say something,” he begged quietly, focusing on his steps to the restaurant.

“Sorry, Gakuto. I. I’m glad…” No words were right. “Not glad, but…” He found his eyes, hoping to be understood. Gakuto sighed. 

“I don’t hate you or blame you, and there’s nothing to forgive. This isn’t a confession either, I got over it, but I’m glad it was you. Even after everything that happened…” _I’m glad you were my first kiss._ What, was Yuushi being thanked for ruining his life?

Gakuto forced another sad smile. “Anyway,” he laughed, “Funny how my father thought sending me to a boarding school would get rid of the gay.” Yuushi smiled, finally, haha, a joke. The words were committed to memory, he’d save the analysis for later. The supposed smooth genius finally clicked back on.

“You went to a boarding school, then. I suppose that makes the most sense. Where were you?”

Gakuto perked. “Where? In Russia.” 

Yuushi stopped. “Wait.” He laughed, “You were in _Russia?_”

Gakuto looked wholly confused. “Hiyoshi didn’t tell you?”

“What?_ Hiyoshi?” _Was this a silly joke?

Gakuto looked at him wide-eyed, 15 again. He was pure curiosity, like when he asked Yuushi for facts or opinions or the answers of life and homework, waiting like he was about to hear the most important thing in the world. 

But he didn’t ask a question, just noted casually, “Huh. The bastard didn’t tell you.” He seemed to accept this and pointed ahead at the restaurant. “You have until we sit down to ask me more questions, then you’ll be the one answering mine.”

“Did you play tennis?”

“No.” Bittersweet, it meant he didn’t play without Yuushi.

“How did Hiyoshi know?”

“Total coincidence. My school had a huge martial arts tournament. Next?”

“When did you get back?”

Pause.

“2 months ago. We’re here.”

= = =

“I imagined us going to the same university, you know.”

“I did too.” Yuushi nodded serenely. 

They were sitting at the bar after eating lunch there. Oh, he had planned. For all these years, Yuushi thought about what he’d say when they met again. He had spent hours wondering before falling asleep at night, crafting the sentences, and every word of it was gone when it mattered most. There was no room for any planning in real life, not this time–he was being carried down a river beyond his control. 

Gakuto continued. “I wondered if it would be possible. I mean, technically, of course it’s possible. I just… Didn’t think it would actually happen. I was sure you’d go back home, but you stayed in Tokyo.”

“Tokyo is home now,” Yuushi informed him. Gakuto looked suspicious.

“So the accent is just a charm point you won’t let go of, huh?” 

Yuushi laughed, but the truth hurt, especially when it was so pointy and accurate. He made sure to show no trace of being called out, and Gakuto laughed it off. He swallowed.

“I gave up on the idea after the first semester. I didn’t know where you were, so I didn’t even consider you might have a different school year.” Gakuto had graduated in June, and enrolled at university for the second semester. 

Then Yuushi turned in his seat abruptly. “I missed your birthday.” 

Gakuto looked at him for a second and laughed. “Yeah, two weeks ago. It’s okay, we can celebrate yours, only another few weeks.”

“Ah, I have plans actually. With someone.”

Gakuto sipped his drink innocently. “Oh yeah? Someone? And who’s that?”

Yuushi looked at his phone at his last text: 

> R: get off your phone!!!! U can tell me about it tomorrow. Happy for you yuuuushi<3

He sighed. “Gakuto, I’m in love.”

= = =

Yuushi had a girlfriend: Kota Rusa. She was amazing, and she was good for him. It was to her credit that Yuushi was “less of an asshole now.” Gakuto did notice that Yuushi was a lot warmer than he remembered, but he also wasn’t sure if his memory was totally stable right now.

He swallowed and nodded encouragingly. Hiyoshi had vaguely mentioned Yuushi was in a relationship, but clearly failed to communicate how serious it was. He figured Yuushi was ready to talk all about it. Gakuto was prepared to listen, but surprisingly he didn’t say too much. 

“You’ll meet her, don’t worry. You’ll see for yourself. She’s cool, someone you would get along with.”

= = =

“Wow Yuushi, you want to talk about my sex life already?”

”But of course,” he spoke seriously.

“You’re rooming with Hiyoshi after all, and apparently you two have some type of history, so I’m curious. Are you involved?“ He looked at Gakuto with a raised brow, not quite smirking yet.

Gakuto bit his lip and got very interested in his drink straw. Yuushi mouth twitched knowingly. 

“I see.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Oh?”

“It’s just. Really convenient. But it’s not only him.” He gave a side glance as he sipped on his straw. “Whatever, judge me, I don’t give a flying fuck. All I’m saying is we aren’t committed.”

“Are you sure he’s ok with that? Not that it’s my business. But I’m asking anyway.” He smirked for real now, a shadow of their old dynamic.

“Yeah. Um. It’s kind of embarrassing.” His eyes flickered from his drink to Yuushi and away again as he busied himself with a slow sip,

“We have a rule. No kissing. Just in case.”

_Wow_. Yuushi gave an appraising nod. “I’m impressed. That’s very mature.”

“Ha ha, fuck off. It was Hiyoshi’s idea, but it is probably for the best.”

“That sounds disappointing, though. To me, at least.”

“Well it’s just. You know, mouth kissing. And I only have that rule with him so. I kiss. When I can.”

Gakuto put his drink down and turned to Yuushi with the weariest stare. 

“I can’t believe this is one of the first things we’re talking about! Man, Yuushi, you haven’t changed at all.” 

And suddenly he threw his head back and laughed, and Yuushi felt a wave of familiarity. Finally, this strangely cool and mature Gakuto isn’t all that was here, he still laughed like _that_. 

“And? Do you have any rules?”

Gakuto put his drink down and sighed, visibly fighting a smile,

“Yeah. He’s not allowed to call me Mukahi-san.” He snorted.

Yuushi laughed, surprising both of them, and Gakuto had to as well. It was the kind of infectious laughter that earned them a look from the bartender.

Is it possible for a sound to be so comforting that it could bring him to tears? Like when you’re moved by a powerful symphony. At least it could wait until he got home and closed his eyes and breathed behind the door. 

Yuushi had really missed his best friend.


	2. Roommates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, I did warn you.

“Hiyoshi”

“What?” 

“Hiyoshi,”

Hiyoshi Wakashi stopped muttering back and sighed, sparing him a brief glance from his laptop. “What, Mukahi-san_?”_

“Hiyoshiiii,” Gakuto reached a leg over from the other side of the couch and poked him on the shoulder with his foot.

“What do you want?” he grumbled.

Gakuto went to push his head and Hiyoshi made a face and swatted his foot away.

“Are you propositioning me?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmm.” Hiyoshi never took his eyes off his laptop.

“We can watch Forensic Files!” Gakuto knew how to get what he wanted.

“At the same time? Please no.”

“Hmm how about after?”

Hiyoshi was saying yes. Before he could even toss the laptop aside, Gakuto was already on his knees before him pulling his pants off.

“Wow, you’re ready huhHHHHH fffuck” Hiyoshi could insist that the element of surprise is what made him make so much noise, but he couldn’t trust his mouth to behave if he opened it again to say such.

Gakuto, always confident, worked to bring him up, and very soon he dragged his mouth off with a noise and a smirk. “Oh look, you’re hard now. Let’s play.”

Hiyoshi grabbed lube out of the side table drawer and plastered his back to the couch cushion, arching up into Gakuto's hot mouth. Gakuto messed with the bottle with one hand and worked his mouth like magic, but Hiyoshi groaned with the cold preparation. “Cold!”

“Sorry! You’re so spoiled. Kidding, kidding,” he paused to suck more dick, “No really, I’m sorry.” and 

“Ffffffuck.” 

He made up for it.

Hiyoshi tried to retort but was thwarted again. He had to moan some more, it felt too _fucking_ good, this wasn’t the worst evening activity. Gakuto’s mouth was truly amazing, up and down farther than he thought possible, and he savored every bit of the contact. He almost missed kissing him (it only happened once, maybe twice), but this sufficed.

He arched again with a “haah” as fingers worked into him, warmer and gentle until they weren’t. Gakuto was good at this. Thank god. If he wasn’t, Hiyoshi wouldn’t have done it enough to get used to it.

“Go.”

“Huh? Oh, slower?”

“Mukah– Go.”

“Oooh, ok. Slower.”

“_Gakuto_. Fuck.” Gakuto’s blow job skills were being wasted, his technique diminished to lazy, aimless teasing with his tongue. 

“Now, bastard.” Hiyoshi pulled him up by the wrists and started dragging his tongue over his neck, chest, a nipple, anything to motivate him to _hurry up_, and finally rubbing them together til Gakuto was hard and humming deep noises against his neck. That really tickled and Gakuto knew that, that jackass, and it left Hiyoshi officially out of patience. “Gakuto. Now.”

“So demanding.” Gakuto wasn’t complaining, Hiyoshi’s voice had gotten all rough and husky as he begged for it, and Gakuto would be lying if he denied how hot that was. He’d already pushed Hiyoshi’s knees back, now tickling his fingers down the back of his thighs, way too slowly, enjoying the view.

“I will _bite your fucking fingers_ off- fffuck!” Hiyoshi bit his lip and made some loud sounds when he finally got what he asked for. He held his breath, relaxing–in rare form he abandoned all logical thought.

“Fuck. Hiyoshi. Shit, hold on.” Gakuto leaned his head into his shoulder after pushing all the way in, pausing. Hiyoshi laughed a little and started regaining his senses. _That close already?_

“Biting your fingers off really turned you on, huh?” His words came out all low and rough, like he was a completely different person, which was obviously hot as hell. Gakuto was glad about that, too, because this grumpy bitch didn’t deserve to sound this sexy all the time. 

“Shut up. Ok. No. Turn around.”

He winced a little when Gakuto pulled out abruptly but did as he was told, impatient while he got lubed up some more.

And then he got railed, hard. His forearms on the couch and he had arms tight around his hips, and every time those hips hit him hard it satiated him. He arched into it just right and they were nothing but loud and messy and carnal. Gakuto took care of his erection and scratched clumsily at his back with his teeth. “Haaah,” he gasped for real words.

“God, you have a nice back,” such a random comment and all Gakuto managed. His hands were all over the place now. He slammed into him and claimed clawed handfuls of Hiyoshi’s ass, tipping him over the edge. Hiyoshi caved forward and bit back a cry. He gave a good squeeze around Gakuto until he joined him, loud and shaking on top of him, into him, coming hard. They both collapsed into a pile on the couch. 

Some seconds passed, unable and unwilling to move. Gakuto lazily reached for the remote on the coffee table, but his arms were too short. Hiyoshi got it and managed to get to Netflix, which took time to load.

“Get off, you’re bony.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gakuto didn’t move at first, and when he did, Hiyoshi did everything he could to make it hard to pull out. He did it just to piss him off and Gakuto brought a fist to his head with all the strength he didn’t currently have.

Gakuto tossed him a wet rag from the bathroom, an easy distance in their tiny apartment, and returned to the couch cleaned up.

“Husband murder, calling it now.”

“It’s always a husband murder!”

“Not always.”

“I saw Yuushi today.”

Forensic Files was paused.

“Is that why you wanted to fuck?” He turned to Gakuto bluntly.

“What? No!”

“It’s okay if it is. It makes no difference to me.”

“Well it’s not. Anyway, he said you didn’t tell him that you saw me. In Russia.”

“I didn’t.”

Gakuto stood up. “What the fuck? Did you tell anyone? Jirou, Shishido? Hiyoshi, what the fuck?”

Doesn’t matter if it was years ago, there was no excuse.

“He was dating Atobe.”

Gakuto dropped the remote he was swinging threateningly. 

“W-What?”

_So… Yuushi definitely wasn’t straight._ That was the very first thought followed by a barrage of others. 

_This is stupid,_ he thought as he felt, heard his voice tremble– was he upset on behalf of his 15 year old self?

“I’m not the only one who knew, Mukahi-san.” Hiyoshi’s voice softened considerably.  
“_He_ knew. And he didn’t tell anyone.” 

Hiyoshi looked away, and Gakuto flopped down defeated on the couch.

“What a piece of shit bastard.”

Hiyoshi sat back next to him and murmured agreement.

“Fucking… Wow. I know Atobe is crazy, but I thought we were friends still. Wow.” He laughed.  
“Wow. So what happened? And you failed to mention that in Russia, by the way,” he added sourly.

“Of course I didn’t mention it. That wouldn’t have made you feel any better, and I did care about you, which I’m never going to say again by the way so don’t make that face, asshole.” 

Gakuto knew this wasn’t the time to tease him, so he obeyed.

“They dated. On and off for over a year. It was a fucking mess.” He raised his eyebrows and laughed. “_I_ wasn’t going to be the one to talk to Oshitari about you, and how was it my place?”

Gakuto chewed on his cheek a little. “A mess, huh?”

“Yes. They broke up a lot. It was very dramatic, every time.” He sighed, annoyed, and hesitated before continuing.

“I don’t know what he told you today, but what happened to you really messed him up.”

Gakuto prayed Hiyoshi would keep talking, because he couldn’t find any words to ask the questions.

“Mukahi-san, I’ve told you this, but nothing was the same. I know we acted like you were annoying sometimes, but... it was so quiet. And… Floor level.”

Gakuto managed to crack a grin, a sad shadow of the enthused retort in his heart. None of this mattered now, but the delayed discovery of betrayal was hitting him hard.

“Oshitari was a nightmare. He would go the entire practice without speaking and then he would snap. And he kicked ass. All of us.” He stuttered. “At tennis, I mean. He destroyed Jirou-senpai. I didn’t realize how good he was. I always knew he would be better If he just _tried, _I didn’t expect him to be _that _much better.”

“Of course he’s good. He’s phenomenal at tennis. You think I don’t know?”

Hiyoshi raised his eyebrows a bit at Gakuto finding his voice, snappy.

“I don’t think you do. I don’t think Atobe even knew. You should have seen _their_ match. Oshitari won.”

Gakuto’s jaw dropped. His Yuushi, _shit, I mean, _his doubles partner, beat _Atobe_ at tennis?

“Oshitari…never spoke unless he was being an asshole with his sarcastic comments. They weren’t funny, ever. He was a dick. _Stop _looking at me like that, I wasn’t nearly that bad. Why do you look so surprised? You were his best friend, and he blamed himself.” 

_He beat Atobe?_ “He beat Atobe?”

“Oh. Well. I’m not sure really, because he finally decided to speak after they called the score, and he flipped out. Coach had to stop him, he was going to try and beat him up, I’m 100% serious. I should have told you about that.”

Hiyoshi stretched his arms, 

“He said Atobe let him win. He was furious. Loud screaming. Et cetera.”

“_Yuushi?” _

Gakuto couldn’t even imagine Yuushi screaming. The cold, the cruel, the asshole comments, he could at least visualize a Yuushi like that. But what would screaming Yuushi even _sound _like? His voice was so… breathy. And slow. He never even laughed loudly.

“Next week, they were making out on the benches before practice. Nobody could say anything.”

“Shit.” Gakuto stood up. “I need a drink.”

He walked to the fridge. “You do too. You must be dehydrated, I’ve never seen you talk this much.”

Hiyoshi huffed. “You’re welcome. Sexual favors and information, and this is how you treat me.”

Gakuto turned to him and made a face. “Did you just make a joke? Hiyoshi, was that a joke?”

“I make jokes.” He crossed his arms.

“Not like that!”

“Get me the drink.”

He tossed Hiyoshi a beer bottle, and he caught it with an incredulous look. Way to risk a broken glass disaster.

Gakuto opened his own bottle and started drinking it, down the hatch, tossing his roommate the bottle opener. He put down his empty bottle and got another from the fridge before plopping down on the couch and opening the new one.

“I don’t understand,” long sip, “why you didn’t fucking tell anyone. How can you be sure Atobe knew? I mean yeah he probably did, but how could you be sure?”

Hiyoshi tore at the bottle label. “When I got back– Well I didn’t tell anyone _where_ the tournament was. Atobe sort of cornered me in the locker room.” He swallowed and drank with subtle eagerness. 

“He said something like ‘how was your time in Russia?’ and I said it was fine and I gekokujo’d the Russians and he just paused and gave this look... Then he congratulated me,” 

Hiyoshi hesitated with a very slow and very long sip, “and then walked right out.”

“Are you fucking serious? That’s your only evidence?”

“Listen. He gave me one of those looks. He stared at me for at least 10 seconds. Just trust me, he knew.”

Somehow, Gakuto could believe it. “But you knew he didn’t tell anyone. You just thought that was fine? You didn’t even tell Shishido, or Ootori? Shit, _Jirou_?”

Hiyoshi was really fiddling with shredded paper on his bottle.

“Hiyoshi, why? Don’t you think I deserve a fucking answer? You knew Atobe was being a selfish asshole and you thought that was fine?”

“I...I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck do you mean you’re sorry? Okay, whatever, I don’t fucking understand, though. If you ‘cared’.” Gakuto threw out angry air quotes and moved to an angry squatting position on the couch, having finished his second beer.

“I… was being selfish. I was a kid, I was stupid. I apologize.”

Why wouldn’t he explain? Gakuto studied him, feeling the beer. It wasn’t much, but he hadn’t truly drunk in a long time, much less _beer_, and he was still a small guy. 

“Were you...kissing ass?” _Future captain bullshit?_ “Are you fucking serious?”

Hiyoshi opened his mouth but froze.

Gakuto was pissed. “_Gekokujo_? Good god, fuck you.”

“That’s not! Why. Exactly.” 

_If not gekokujo, then why_? 

“What, so you just kept his asshole secret for… What? What did you expect to happen?”

Hiyoshi finally looked him in the eye and damn if tipsy Gakuto didn’t almost wobble onto the floor when the lightbulb went off.

“Holy shit. You liked him. Oh my god. Hiyoshi.”

“I told you it was stupid. Selfish. Look, I’m sorry.” Hiyoshi got up to get them more beer.

“I thought you had a crush on me! Everyone thought you had a crush on me! It was Atobe!” Gakuto was now rolling on the couch laughing. 

“Shit. That makes so much sense. I mean, yeah you were a fucking idiot. If Yuushi knew Atobe was hiding that from him he’d have dumped him, probably, but you didn’t want to... What? Betray him? Shit, you’re a masochist huh?”

“You don’t have to say all this. You think I don’t know? I know. I’m an asshole. It was stupid.”

“God I can’t even be mad anymore, that’s so pathetic. Gimme that.” He took the beer. “So if you never liked me, why the no kissing rule?”

“What? No kissing rule?”

“The fuck? You know what I’m talking about. How you don’t kiss. Too risky or whatever.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s n- that’s nothing persn. Personal.” 

That wasn’t about Gakuto at all. He left out some irrelevant details in his story. Details about how while Atobe stared at him in the club room, he was approaching slowly, unnoticeably until he was there in front of him. And how he held Hiyoshi’s face gracefully in hands. And how he kissed him deeply, soft and perfect, effectively ruining Hiyoshi’s emotional state for the next few years. 

Hiyoshi has a bad track record with kissing, and that was far from Atobe’s fault alone. And it wasn’t any of Gakuto’s business.

Meanwhile, Gakuto wondered how drunkass Hiyoshi got two beers ahead of him.

“I did like you. For a bit. I think. Or I wanted to. Anything was better than Atobe, but after nationals you were Oshitari’s again and it was easy to get over you. No offense.” 

“I’m not offended. You’ll still fuck me though. So, you think I’m fuckable.”

Hiyoshi rolled his eyes. “Fishing for compliments? Yeah, you’re fuckable. Not that you ever. Give me. Chances. I’m not really mad though.” Hiyoshi wasn’t drunk enough to flat out admit that he wasn’t mad in the slightest, although he had been annoyed at first. Gakuto had called it an acquired taste, but he didn’t need to know just how much Hiyoshi had acquired it. “Just stating a fact,” he was officially slurring his words, still thinking about it. He enjoyed the sex as it was now. But he knew it would never be as good as fucking him. That was memorable. He found it was best not to think about it too often.

Gakuto squinted at him. “How did you outdrink me? We have any more?” He stood up.

“Anyway, sorry, but last time you fucked me I couldn’t walk for like 2 days. I know it’s not your fault, but you’re huge. You’re not bad! It’s just a lot. _For me._” He never forgot to add the last part, in obvious effort to let Hiyoshi maintain some kind of hope.

Gakuto produced two unwise additional beers and sat back down. “Ah sorry, I feel like a dick now. Maybe this weekend, like Friday, when I don’t have to go anywhere the next day.” 

“Hm.” A noncommittal noise of agreement, Gakuto was 99% certain, completely oblivious to his roommates internal celebration.

He rolled onto the floor dramatically. 

“Shit, I have class in 8 hours.”

“Yeah, well I have to teach. Hey. Mukahi.”

“Yeah?”

”I bet you’ll have sex with Oshitari before he gets married.”

_Married? _He sat up. “The fuck are you talking about? Since when is Yuushi getting married?”

“Not soon or officially, or anything. But he and Kota-san are a... super couple, oh, you probably know that by now, huh? He never shut up about her. Just assumed they’ll get married, same with Ootori and Shishido. Well, for them kind of married. Oh, I guess you weren’t here but they’re together. Wait, I told you that. Plus,” he was rambling, “You know. How they are. She is– She’s from Osaka, too. I think she lives there now? They’ve been together since after Atobe, and Oshitari kind of was normal again after that.”

Oh. Huh. _Wait,_ “And what, you think he’ll cheat on her? Yuushi isn’t that much of an asshole.”

“You guys will definitely fuck. Probably in the next….. Year. No. 8 months. No, no. Ah. 6 months.” 

“I’m not a homewrecker, asshole, and I’m not all in love with him anymore. Fuck you, you’re drunk.”

“I am. But, I’m still serious. I’ll even put money on it. I’ll bet… say… 40,000 yen that you and Oshitari will have some kind of sex by 6 months from today.”

Shit, okay. “Fine! Easy money, asshole!” He stuck his tongue out and fell back down. They lay hazily for a bit.

“Mukahi-san. I would try to have sex with you right now, but I think I’m going to pass out. Why did we get drunk?”

“Because I was mad at you and you told me Atobe fucked me and all the people I care about over for three and a half years. Wanna make out?”

He rolled over toward him. They were both on the floor now, and he propped himself over his face. Hiyoshi groaned at this obvious rule breaking but they shared a sloppy kiss, which didn’t last long, as Gakuto was too tired to support his own arms. “Now I’m horny but I can’t move. Let’s go to sleep.”

“K.” They eventually, slowly got up and Gakuto followed Hiyoshi to his room. Too drunk to question it, Hiyoshi let him strip them, lazily kiss him. Gakuto climbed on top of him and rubbed them together til they were both gasping again, and he collapsed. Without a word they both passed out within minutes.

= = =

“Wake up.”

“Wha? Oh, shit”

Gakuto opened his eyes as he assessed the situation. He was butt ass naked, draped on Hiyoshi’s chest, glued in position. “Oh, _gross_.” 

“_Can you not?_ Can you just get off? Please? Ugh, why did you follow me to bed?”

“Why did you let me? I’m too sober for this. God, my neck hurts.”

“My legs hurt from your bony knees. Please get off.”

“Shut up, I’m trying. Eww.”_ You don’t have to say it, _Hiyoshi thought. It was his fault, anyway!

Gakuto ran to the bathroom to shower first. “MY HEAD HURTS!” He complained to the apartment.

“So does mine, you’re not special,” Hiyoshi muttered. Gakuto was good for sex but way too annoying for cuddling. Good luck to whoever landed him for life. How could someone’s knees be so sharp?


	3. The Bet

**Gakuto**

Gakuto, who was almost late for chemistry, found Yuushi and spilled some coffee on his way to the seat next to him, a wise choice, behind a tall kid in the lower row. 

“Good morning,” a warm, accented murmur. That fucker and his soothing, knowing tone.

“I think you forgot to remove your sunglasses. Also, it’s raining.”

Gakuto sank into his seat and grunted, crouching over his sacred coffee cup. Just another thing he picked up in Russia.

“Did you have fun last night?”

“Not allowed to ask me questions. Can you take notes for me, Yuushi?” 

All of the things he learned last night were on the backburner. He felt like shit and survival instincts, namely getting Yuushi to cover for him, kicked in immediately.

“Well, no fair if you’re allowed to ask questions.”

“Thanks.” Gakuto slammed his face onto folded arms on the desk. Yuushi moved his cup a safe distance away and got out his notebook, which he hadn’t planned on using. _Leave it to me, Gakuto._ He chuckled to himself.

= = =

> G: I feel like shit. Bad.
> 
> H: Agree. Traumatized. Bruised by your skeleton, dont come near me again.
> 
> G: fuck u. Lol does that mean we’re not still on for friday
> 
> H: .........
> 
> H: k after friday 
> 
> H: also more importantly, the bet is still on. dont forget.

_What bet?_

Oh, right. Hiyoshi bet 40,000 yen that Gakuto will have sex with the very taken man sitting next to him, within 6 months.

Gakuto groaned. He was glad he was too old (hungover) to blush.

He was half asleep, absorbing the chemistry lecture at 20% capacity, when he was rudely stabbed with a very sharp fountain pen.

His sunglasses slid off as he peeked at the paper next to him. _When is your next class?_ He held out a hand for the pen, feigned stabbing Yuushi with it, then wrote _11:30_.

_Let’s hang out?_

Replacing his shades, Gakuto offered a thumbs up and went back to his desperate nap. 

= = =

A lovely Saturday morning, his home screen said. Gakuto woke up as sore as he’d expected to. His eyes were too sleepy to look at his phone. He thought he saw that Yuushi texted him, but he’d read it later. He waddled from his own bed to the kitchen in nothing but boxers, and Hiyoshi stood at the counter and looked at him smugly. Almost chipper, in a piece of shit kind of way. Gakuto thought he looked shy for a second, but blinked it away.

“Don’t care what kind of screaming you _thought _you heard last night. You’re not putting that in me again” Gakuto mumbled as he approached his coffee maker. Hiyoshi made some weird smirking face behind his mug and lifted his eyebrows before wordlessly retreating to his room with haste. It was not the first Saturday morning Gakuto had said that, but Hiyoshi was _supposed_ to point that out–like last Saturday, and the Saturday before, but nope. Guess he was just an entitled shithead now!

“Good morning, Gakuto.”

Gakuto jumped and looked at the occupied couch. He was not, in fact, too old to blush.

Especially when Yuushi’s eyes glazed down his chest- Was.. Was he checking him out? Could Gakuto even handle this right now? Yuushi was getting married, wait, not technically, but–

“You look like a Dalmatian.”

Gakuto looked down at himself to find he was littered with little bruises, hickies and finger marks maybe, some scratches. _Shit_.  
“Was a special occasion,” he lied; trying not to show his humiliation as he pilfered through the cabinet for his favorite mug. He gave up on that and sped to his room, returning fully clothed in a green pullover and his comfiest sweats. Yuushi declined the coffee so Gakuto filled a random cup and sat at the table in front of the couch.

“Good morning, Oshitari Yuushi. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He spoke dryly, trying to channel Yuushi Energy.

“You’re meeting her today.” Yuushi smiled as widely as Gakuto had ever seen him.

“Oh. Um. Okay!” Yeah, of course he was going to agree. It was just a little sudden.

“Sorry to interrupt your morning.”

Gakuto groaned into his hands, still recovering. “Can’t believe you saw that.” 

Yuushi lured more information out of him with a curious look and a poke to his glasses. “Did it the other way last night.” It was just supposed to be that one Friday! _Shit_. Good thing he didn’t say _that_ out loud. How did he get roped into admitting any of this, again?

Yuushi nodded slowly with a tiny, tiny smile. “The other way? Interesting.”

He didn’t look as surprised as he should be, but he never did. Gakuto gave him a look. “Yeah, yeah. My ass has uke written all over it. But normally, I just–.” _Come on, Yuushi. Don’t make me say it._

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he murmured. Hiyoshi’s surprising endowment earned him some amount of locker room commentary back in the day. _‘It’s always the quiet ones’, _Yuushi would say, and they would all laugh. Then Gakuto moved to Russia and understood how shitty that was of them. Even worse, his new school lacked the safe friendliness of the Hyotei regulars’ locker room. 

In any case, Yuushi understood. “Explains his enthusiasm.”

“It’s probably the last time for awhile, anyway, it’s getting too annoying. Or something. Shit, I dunno, I’m fucking sleepy Yuushi. How did you get me to talk about this, anyway? Dirty bastard.” 

Yuushi shrugged innocently. “You wound me. I’m just a good listener.” Gakuto rolled his eyes, fighting against Yuushi’s smooth and somehow convincing voice. He changed the subject. 

“So what’s the plan for today?”

Big Smile Yuushi was back. Gakuto was unnerved at the wider displays of emotion his face had discovered in his absence. It was too wholesome right now to even make fun of. Besides, he kind of liked it.

“I’m picking her up at noon, and I was hoping you could meet us at this restaurant.” 

He produced and expertly flicked a business card to land on the table right in front of Gakuto. The bottom edge was parallel to the table’s edge. It was even facing him the right way.

_Ah. Genius prodigy bullshit. _“Aw, you came all the way here just to show me that magic trick?”

Yuushi threw down a paper bag more casually. “Breakfast. I wanted to make sure you were up so you could be ready.” He stood up. “This is important.”

Gakuto dug his teeth into the chocolate muffin nodding in thanks. Bringing him this kind of breakfast warmed his soul. “Of course.” He swallowed. “I’m really happy for you, Yuushi. You’re in love, you deserve it. I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Aw, Gakuto.” He teased, only not really. “Well then, I’m off to get ready. See you at 12:30?”

“Sounds good.”

= = =

Gakuto thought it went really well. 

Yuushi found what he was looking for. That true love, the stories in the movies he loved so much, in the books he devoured. He had a beautiful, smart girlfriend. The first thing he noticed was that she spoke to everyone in a standard Tokyo dialect except for Yuushi, like it was their own little Kansai world. It was great–she laughed at Gakuto’s jokes, he laughed at hers, what could be better than that? He vaguely wondered how Yuushi moved on from Atobe to her, what that series of events must have looked like. 

In another life, Gakuto would be jealous. That ship had long since sailed, because in this life, what happened, happened. He had gone through a lot in the last few years, and heartbreak was not the worst of it. He was safely over him.

Hiyoshi’s bet just seemed silly now. Was it too early to start thinking about how he’d spend 40,000 yen?

The rest of his day was mostly quiet, as intended. He was reading for his Geography exam at the table when he heard a knock on the door, probably around 6pm. Hiyoshi was working at the dojo, and they weren’t expecting a visit from anyone. 

He opened it.

“Yuushi?”

“Hey,” he said in a low voice. Gruff, not smooth. Wrong.

“...Where are your glasses?” Somehow the first thing he noticed.

He looked above Gakuto’s head and pocketed his hands. “Can I come in?”

“Y...Yeah.” Gakuto stepped aside to let him in, confused as all hell. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m going to use your bathroom, alright?”

“Sure, it’s the second door. I’ll wait in here, ok?”

Clearly something was wrong. Gakuto had a bad, visceral feeling. He started making tea, because Yuushi always said tea promotes coziness; a weird ass statement full of truth.

The tea was ready, but Yuushi was still in the bathroom. Gakuto’s mind raced, impatient for answers. When he neared the door, he heard that the shower was running. He knocked softly.

“Yuushi? What are you doing?”

“Dying,” he heard a deadpan response. 

Gakuto opened the door and stumbled in. Yuushi was sitting on the floor under the shower with the water running on him, arms folded on his knees. He had put his clothes in the corner– at least he took them off before drowning in his sorrow. Gakuto thought it was somehow elegant, this version of curling up in sitting fetal position, and that only Yuushi could manage such a thing. This was probably as pathetic as he could look.

The water was clearly hitting his face but he turned to Gakuto as if it wasn’t. “Hey.”

“Shit, Yuushi, you scared me. I thought you slit your wrists or something. What’s going on?” 

Yuushi stared back into the water spray, not even closing his eyes. _Kind of melodramatic, no?_

This was Expressionless Yuushi– nostalgic, in a bad way. 

“It would be rude to do that in someone else’s bathroom.”

“Yuushi, what happened?”

“She broke up with me.” Finally a flicker. A sardonic smile.

It shouldn’t have been _that_ surprising, Gakuto wasn’t an idiot. He could put two and two together. Yuushi hangs out with girlfriend, Yuushi then shows up immeasurably upset, obvious theory: it involves the girlfriend. Yet Gakuto could only gape as he sat on the stool, pulling it away from the shower spray. He regained his senses. “That makes no fucking sense.”

“It’s funny. She said that this whole time she’s been jealous of a ghost, but that was okay. Not that she ever told me that, so I was clueless.” He laughed once, bitterly. 

“She said, ‘But now the ghost wasn’t a ghost, it was real,’ and she essentially told me she didn’t want to wait around ‘just to get hurt,’ or some ...fucking cliche.” He took a few deep breaths. 

“I’m so fucked up.” His voice shook harder now, and Gakuto found that nauseating. It wasn’t like him to insult a cliche.

“I love her. I don’t get it. I thought she understood–I was really messed up, okay? Then, I mean.” 

Gakuto thought about what Hiyoshi told him. “I was an asshole. She basically fixed me. Honestly made me better than I ever was, and now, she thinks I’ll... Betray her? What the _hell?_”

Gakuto was trying to take in these words. But, Yuushi’s blackened hair was a wet mess, and he was all folded and drenched and too-pale skin, which was supposed to be olivey, but it wasn’t, it was wrong. His eyes were so raw from crying–Yuushi was losing it. It was absolutely terrible, and even if they hadn’t spoken for years, they were best friends and it really, really hurt to look at.

Gakuto stood up and switched the shower off. Yuushi looked up at him desperately. “I’m sorry…” 

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare apologize,” Gakuto scolded. As if he didn’t look pitiful enough. He held his hands out to help Yuushi up and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around him.

“Sit,” he pointed to the stool and Yuushi obeyed. He threw more towels on him, draping one around his back, throwing one on his head. Yuushi winced in confusion but didn’t complain. Gakuto went to him and started drying his hair gently.

“Okay so, I think the initial shock has worn off and I can process this. This sounds like a super bullshit reason to break up. She must still love you. So, you can get her back. Okay?” 

He said it all as a matter of fact, trying to be very clear. He had to lean over and turn his head to look Yuushi in the eye. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Okay.”

Gakuto sighed and kneaded his head with the towel some more. A ghost. What the hell does that even mean. Jealous of a ghost. What ghost–Gakuto?

_Shit, it is me._

He had to stop himself from exposing his idiocy, embarrassed by his delayed understanding. The love of Yuushi’s life, or whatever had broken up with him because of Gakuto. She was genuinely jealous. _Shit_. His hands shook a little, so he dropped the towel back onto Yuushi’s head. He would have brushed his hair for him, but he’d tried that before and fucked it up. He doubted he could do any better with wavering motor skills.

“I’m going to remake the tea. Dry off. Here’s my hairbrush. Put your clothes back on. We’ll come up with a plan.”

“You hate plans.”

“I do. But then I moved to Russia, and I’m good at them now. Come on, you can do it. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He closed the bathroom door and stepped out to a full room. “That’s 40,000 yen, cough it up.” 

_Oh, look who’s back_. “Ugh, it’s not the time okay?” He surveyed the other people and recognition clicked. “Oh shit,” he muttered as the timing got even worse.

“Wow, what a super nice way to greet me after 4 years.”

“I’m sorry!” Gakuto let that sink in and walked up to him, this boy, just kidding, man. He was back to that iconic, shampoo-commercial-silky dark hair, now shoulder length and tied half up. They grew up together, almost. They were supposed to, him and Jirou, their entire childhood they were going to be playing tennis and going to Hyotei together, but the last few years Gakuto was cut out. Shishido was taller and all angles and lean muscle and intensity but very much the same. 

Gakuto hugged him. “Good to see you,” he said, quieter than intended. “Hey, Ootori. _You are so fucking tall._ Come here.” He had to stand up on his toes to hug him and sweet as ever, he laughed softly. Gakuto swallowed a bit. Every time he saw someone again, he felt it a little more and more– he was back.

“I’m sorry. It’s just the worst possible timing. Yuushi’s here and it’s… bad. Shit, tea.” Gakuto was pacing in a curvy route, anxiously on his way to the kettle. Yuushi couldn’t walk out to this room in his state. Nobody needed to see him like this. 

Shishido might have read his mind. “We’ve… Seen him at his worst, Gakuto. You weren’t here for it.” 

“Right, and, it was my fault.” he wouldn’t let them open their mouths, “Just like this time. His girlfriend broke up with him.”

Choutarou gasped, “No…” Shishido raised his eyebrows and inhaled. This spoke volumes more about Yuushi’s relationship than Hiyoshi did, with that _they are very in love,_ bullshit, since, who the fuck would fully trust Hiyoshi’s judgment? The severity of the matter was really starting to hit him.

“Man...That’s. How did you manage that?” 

Gakuto couldn’t help but stomp on the turn, easily riled up. “I don’t know! It was fine and I’m trying to fix it, so _yes, _I’m going to take him to my room! And we’re going to figure out how to convince her I’m not– a threat, or a ghost, or whatever. So, we have to catch up later, okay? It’s good to see you both, but I’ve got to handle this. Hiyoshi,” 

_You piece of shit,_ _bringing up the bet while he’s here, “_can you boil some water for me? _Please_?” Hiyoshi blinked at being addressed, with a please, even. “Um. Sure.”

Gakuto took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. “Sorry. Welcome to our home. Please be comfortable. And quiet, and leave us alone.” He went to get Yuushi.

**Hiyoshi**

The three stood in the tiny living ‘room’, waiting in silence as Gakuto ushered Yuushi into the room next door, not looking back. The door shut and Hiyoshi turned to the other two.

“So, what do you think?” he studied the others, voice down.

Shishido exhaled. “He’s so ripped. Okay, maybe not _ripped_. He’s still small but he looks like he’s made of steel. How the hell did that happen?” Hiyoshi shrugged, but he absolutely knew what he was talking about. Supposedly, Gakuto was doomed to look like a skinny kid forever. But as lean as he was, he had serious muscle definition. He managed to look built in a ballerina way, maybe from the gymnastics, or whatever it was he did there. Hiyoshi realized maybe he’d had too much opportunity to ponder this and wasn’t about to mention it. It would subject both of them to undoubtedly merciless teasing. He cleared his throat. 

“You’re right. I was surprised too. I never said anything to him about it. But... I meant about Oshitari.”

“Oh.” A pointed silence. Hiyoshi and Shishido both looked to Choutarou for that one.

“I…Why me? I’m not sure what you mean, even.”

Hiyoshi finished up Gakuto’s tea and went to knock on his door before returning. 

“Observe,” he whispered studiously. 

Gakuto quietly closed his door behind him and walked the short distance to the kitchen mumbling a thanks. He stopped by the kettle and looked at them looking at him.

“Are you guys just standing in the middle of the room, exactly how I left you? You can get comfortable and sit down, you know.” 

He took a cup of tea back to his room and shut the door.

That wasn’t very telling, but Choutarou gleaned one thing, “It’s funny… I remember I always would see Oshitari-san taking care of Mukahi-san, but this is the opposite.”

“Ohhhh, yeah. Spoiled brat,” Shishido nodded and furrowed his eyebrows before turning with a pointed stare.

“Hiyoshi, what happened exactly when Gakuto left?”

They were at that point. Hiyoshi sighed a big sigh and beckoned them to sit around the table for story time.

“First. What do you know?”

“His father caught them together, I think?” Shishido rested his chin on his fist. 

“But... _How _together?” He clearly felt a little awkward talking about it.

Hiyoshi blinked at the both of them. It dawned on him– the only reason he knew this was because he met Gakuto in Russia. They never would have learned from Oshitari. 

“It was their first kiss. They were doing homework and Mukahi-san? Probably? Kissed him, I think. It was very bad timing. His father opened the door seconds later and… He physically dragged Oshitari out the front door.”

“Holy shit,” Shishido whispered. The two gaped at Hiyoshi. He was starting to feel a little guilty about all of the information he had withheld.

Then, Shishido asked the feared question. 

“How come you’re Gakuto’s roommate? Nobody knew he was back in Tokyo but you, and…” Choutarou finished for him, “You seem very close.” 

_Shit. Ahhh. _Choutarou was looking at him with the Eyes. So earnest. He had to tell the truth.

“First, you need to know that Atobe knew the whole time– he knew exactly where he was. I don’t know if you remember, but I went to that martial arts tournament abroad after everything happened.”

He didn’t give them a chance to speak and continued in a professional tone. “The tournament was held at Mukahi’s boarding school in Russia, and I saw him there. It was a coincidence.”

“Hiyoshi… That was only a few months after Mukahi-san left, wasn’t it?”

Shishido just glared. “And you- you knew that whole time!?” He kept his voice hushed, at least.

“His brother didn’t know where he was! I searched, I asked Atobe, I tried to find him… Atobe _knew!_” He mumbled something about the bastard and Choutarou squeezed his hand under the table.

Hiyoshi had to power through. 

“We spent some time talking while I was there. He came to me when he got back, and it just worked out like this. So, do you think I’m going to win the bet or not?”


	4. The Plan

“Ghhhh.” Yuushi lay flat down groaning into Gakuto’s pillow. Gakuto took the liberty of finishing his abandoned cup of tea, sitting on the floor next to him.

This was not a conversation he expected to ever happen, but Gakuto could think on that later.

“Look, Yuushi. You can’t just let her walk away. She’ll never take you back if you just let her leave. You need to fight for her. This is a test, _baka_. Remember the romance, Yuushi. You have to show her you really want her!” He beat a fist on the bed.

“Gakuto, you’re really scaring me.”

“What? Why?”

Yuushi raised his head to face him with narrowed eyes. “How on earth did you gain this insight? Mukahi Gakuto, since when are you a romantic? Maybe this is all a dream. That would be such a relief.” He buried his face in the pillow again.

“I mean. You made me watch all those movies.”

“Yes, but I know you never actually watched them. Anyway, you _are_ right.”

Gakuto didn’t think this was the right time to confess to the real reason; that he adopted Yuushi’s hobby of reading romance novels when he was sent to Russia. In his defense, he was bitterly heart broken, and it was how he coped with missing him. Even after he finally stopped moping, it kind of stuck. _An acquired taste_.

“Of course I’m right. Obviously you, out of anyone, would pull some huge romantic gesture. She knows that, too.” The more Gakuto spoke the more he realized how obvious this all should have been to his “tensai”, “romance expert” best friend. Was he just an idiot about himself?

“Gakuto. You’re right. I should have followed her to Osaka.”

_Okay, but school is also important?_ “...Or you could just text her? Call her. Email her. Write her some poetry or some shit. Maybe this really is some test. Tell her, you’ll prove that she’s the one.”

Yuushi rolled over. “_Who are you?”_

Gakuto laughed but internally cringed at the joke. He didn’t like the reminder that they were strangers, that any part of him was unrecognizable. It was nice pretending they were friends just like they used to be.

“I do have some worldly knowledge, these days,” he countered. This was virtually a role reversal. When they were 15, Gakuto had all the problems and Yuushi took care of him. Then Gakuto had to learn to take care of himself.

“Cool, see? We have a plan. Get up. Shishido and Ootori were here, but they might have left by now.”

“Sorry for interrupting the reunion.” 

“Nah, I had no idea they were coming. They interrupted you. They look different, Yuushi. Like exactly the same, except _not. _Everyone is so different,” he cringed when his voice cracked a little. “It kind of sucks.”

Yuushi stopped him this time. 

“That doesn’t mean you’re any less important. Yes, people did change. But nobody forgot about you for a second. Shishido started spending a lot of time with your brother. They’re friends, Gakuto. You should make a real effort to catch up with him. Both of them, in my opinion.” 

Gakuto should be annoyed that Yuushi was bossing him around, but he always forgot to be. That hadn’t changed.

Besides, he took that to heart. “He never told me. My brother, I mean. He’s so...cold. I think he’s mad I don’t live at home.” 

Gakuto led them out into the main area. “But you’re right, and I will.” The other three were gone, leaving them alone, dooming him to more potentially emotional conversation.

This was the first day Yuushi had ever been to their apartment. They always ended up hanging out on campus, in a bar, or somewhere random around the city. Gakuto realized that he couldn’t expect or let Yuushi go out into the world alone in this state, and he had no reason not to keep hanging out. So. What to do.

“We should watch something funny, I’ll make popcorn.” Yuushi quietly sat on the couch, and when Gakuto looked over from the kitchen, his thoughts flew back to that morning. When he thought Yuushi was checking him out.

Gakuto has had sex on that couch. 

Yuushi was sitting on the same couch.

It was clean! But. He had. Sex, on it. More than once. After all, it was The Couch, their only couch, and comfier than the floor. It was a good couch! Dark brown leather, old and worn in a good way, a nice clean blanket laid out on the seat. They even had two whole throw pillows. It was a perfectly good, normal, wholesome three-seater. Nothing here was out of sorts. It was ideal for watching TV.

That Yuushi was sitting on it, and that Gakuto had sex on it, were two separate facts. Funny that he thought of them at the same time. He wondered what the date would be 6 months after The Bet was made.

That asshole bastard Hiyoshi put ideas in his head for sure, and he _did_ just see Yuushi naked, but it wasn’t sexy or anything, it was sad and _very_ discouraging of thinking like that. So, he stopped. Yuushi might be hot, but that love, the stupid pining, it was over. It took a lot of work, but he actually had defeated it. It was no small task. Gakuto was a strong individual, and he didn’t work hard for nothing. Being best friends again was not going to be a threat. Other than in the opinion of Yuushi’s girlfriend, apparently.  
  
_Why am I thinking about this? _All this time apart and they were finally back to their typical past time, watching movies and talking over them, this time with popcorn. He needed to live in the moment.  
“Your choice. Remote privilege has been granted.” Gakuto formally passed it to Yuushi on his way back to the popcorn on their tiny stove top.

“What if you hate what I pick?”

“Since when has that bothered you?” 

Yuushi smirked and Gakuto could see him scrolling through the options, acting all innocent. Gakuto avoided burning the popcorn and bowled it up in two bowls. Yuushi was ready with his choice and took an offered beer. 

Gakuto was conscious of what a bad idea drinking might be in this situation, but Yuushi could clearly use it, so he decided to join in as slowly as possible.   
He plopped down in the corner bringing his feet up on the cushion.   
“So, what do we have here?” 

Yuushi smiled and hit play, refusing to offer any information. 

“I see how it is. You’re playing that game.”

It only took 20 minutes for Gakuto to break. 

“Yuushi, what the fuck is this?”

It had started off okay. It was a k-drama, which was fine, no red flags. The whole 20-minute setup had been about horse racers in Mongolia, and they told this gripping tale of one horse racer, and revealed that he had an aunt that moved to Korea. She won the lottery but he never knew, and when she died but had no other surviving family, everything was left to him. So now he had to move to Korea and take over a massive company, and not even a cool company, just some vague business firm.

Yuushi had clearly chosen the most random bullshit he could find. He was smiling oh so smugly, his silent laugh shaking his chest. “It’s even worse than I thought it would be.”

The horse racer just met his translator, the sickeningly obvious love interest, and the dramatic slow-mo hair flips began. 

“Shit. Can we please watch something else? This is bad, even for you, Yuushi.”  
It didn’t take much convincing. Yuushi motioned between himself and the kitchen, a silent question. Gakuto nodded, “Yeah, of course, help yourself.” It was his turn to browse the TV. 

Yuushi brought over some chips he found and two beers. “Ah, that’s–” Okay, he wanted to say, because he didn’t want another beer. But this is Japan, you don’t turn down drinks, right? “Thanks,” he took it. 

Yuushi looked at him a second and laughed. “You don’t have to drink it, I won’t be offended. It’s _your_ beer. What, are you a vodka man now?”

Gakuto turned and looked him dead in the eye. “And what if I am?” he challenged. 

He sat back on the couch and opened the new beer anyway.

= = =

Gakuto twirled the remote with his non beer hand and gave Yuushi a funny look.

“By the way, you never answered. Where _are _your glasses?” 

Oh, that. “Broken.” Yuushi had come straight here. He started tearing up in public which had _never_ happened before, so he took them off to wipe his face. “I dropped them. Someone stepped on them.” 

Yuushi stepped on them. It was a shitty day. 

“Sucks. Sorry man. But at least you didn’t have to leave your horses behind and move to Korea.”

“Hm. You have a point.”

Yuushi was wholly amused. He laughed every time they talked, and he wasn’t like Gakuto, he wasn’t the laughing type. He had forgotten just how _entertaining_ he was, which is probably why he enjoyed hanging out with him so much. It only just occurred to him. This was why, this was what made him miss Gakuto so powerfully– simply hanging out. He wondered when he lost sight of that. They could always cheer each other up, always be a good distraction– there was always something to talk about.

“You know… Make fun of Russia and the stereotypes all you want, Yuushi. They’re all true, anyway. But vodka is worth the hype. Vodka is far superior in every way to this. Some even say, vodka is a way of life.” 

What’s funny was, even before Gakuto left he qualified as Most Likely to Love Vodka among their friends. First, it’s a party drink– hard liquor would be more Gakuto’s style, since he didn’t seem like the type to drink leisurely when he could be doing something more active, like dancing. Concentrated alcohol was an obvious solution. He had no trouble imagining Gakuto participating in a series of shots with great enthusiasm, like in some American college movie. Imagining the same scene except that everyone was Russian. 

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

Gakuto pouted. Pouted! While opening his beer. Gakuto’s Pout was so powerful, Yuushi wondered if he’d _ever_ grow out of it. It reminded him that it really hadn’t been that long since they were friends. It was October, and Gakuto left November of their third year. So, he’d spent 4 years away. Admittedly, four years is a long time when you’re 19. But sometimes it felt like a whole lifetime. It was so _silly_, they weren’t even real adults yet. Hiyoshi would still be in high school if he hadn’t dropped out for martial arts, but he was here living with Gakuto in their own apartment, drinking beer and fucking each other, and it felt like they were so much older. Hiyoshi… he wasn’t even 18, yet. Yuushi only just turned 19. He was tipsy enough to realize he should save this train of thought for when he was bored in class on Monday.

= = =

“Yuushi. _Yuushi.”_

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“You got lost in your own head.”

“Yeah, but you brought me back.” He smiled. 

Gakuto rolled his eyes. This shit again. _Stop that_. _Stop your flirty, cute shit._ He always caught him off guard with it. 

“Dammit, Yuushi. Let’s watch the damn movie.”

“What is this?”

He laughed. “What, are you joking?”

“No? I’ve never seen it.” It was hard to tell when Yuushi was messing with him.

Gakuto stood up and looked at him like he was an alien. 

“Yuushi, you haven’t seen _Jurassic Park?”_

_“_No, I haven’t.” he leaned back. “Am I ready for this?”

“Well, you better be, ’cause you don’t have a _choice_.”

Gakuto dramatically took to the couch, lay back, and hit play.


	5. Back

Best friends.

When you walk into a room and see the other, and every time you exchange knowing smiles. No greeting is required, no announcing one’s self. Any “Hey,” “Hello,” “Good morning” was redundant. It was never “Oh, my best friend has arrived! They’re here now!” It was always “Gakuto’s back.” 

It didn’t matter time, nor place. Maybe it was somewhere Gakuto had never been, like his sister’s first apartment; but never was it “Welcome,” always it was “Welcome back.”

Gakuto even said it out loud sometimes. Once, he invited Yuushi to a skatepark within a larger park, and it took forever for Yuushi to find. It hadn’t looked how he expected, and he barely realized he was there when Gakuto bounded up to him. He wore that same knowing look, and he said to him, and to his friends, people Yuushi had never even met,

“Yuushi’s back.”

Any time they were apart, they were just on loan to the rest of the world. It was granted they would return, side by side– just nature striving for equilibrium.

When did it become that way?

The first time Gakuto went to Osaka with Yuushi and visited Kenya’s house, Yuushi answered the door. He didn’t say anything, or he probably made fun of him for something like his girly peach patterned duffle bag or imperfect arrival time, he couldn’t really remember. 

What he did remember saying was, “Welcome back.”

Kenya thought he was being sarcastic, but asked him later just to be sure. “He hasn’t been here before, right?” 

“Oh, no. Just an inside joke.” Kenya couldn’t possibly understand.  
  
Wait. Kenya _could_ understand. 

It was the same. With most of his family, his sister, his aunt– they never made a big deal about meeting up again, because of course they’d come home, even if it had been a while. Every time he saw Kenya, it wasn’t _Ah! Good to see you!_ It was, _cool, cousin shenanigans can now resume as planned. _When his sister came home it was _Oh look, Erina showed up,_ even if it had been a month. He was glad to see them again of course, but it was never really notable. Spending time around with your close family throughout your life is something to be expected. Yuushi had never even thought about it before Gakuto, though.

Was Gakuto family, then?

Was it the same?


	6. PART 2 - Loud

= **PART 2** =

Gakuto wasn’t sure why he was awake, because he had every reason to be exhausted, after a night of dancing and so on. He was too lazy to move, not to mention trapped. He was also bored.

After some hesitation, Gakuto sat up stealthily and snapped a picture, lit just barely by window light.

> G: guess who this is
> 
> Y: hm
> 
> Y: I know if I guess the wrong person you’ll be offended. And you will never stop making fun of me. so just tell me

  
_Yes, he’s awake. _Before he could finish a message of encouragement, Yuushi replied again.

> Y: Is that Kirihara Akaya
> 
> G: maybe
> 
> Y: I’m going back to sleep. have fun ;)

“Hey” the person next to him rolled over sleepily.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“What time is it?”

“Umm, 5:30.” Kirihara made a face when the phone light blinded him. He rose a bit only to flop back down on Gakuto’s extra pillow.

“Now is usually when I wake up...” he whispered.

“For tennis?” Gakuto whispered back.

“Yeah,” Kirihara confessed. Everything they said sounded like a secret between kids at a sleepover, staying up past their bedtime. It was kind of weird, considering.

“Oh.” They were quiet. Gakuto’s eyes got used to the dark.

“I feel really bad. About your roommate.”

Gakuto groaned and threw an arm over his face, “Me too, that was so awkward. I swear, I thought he was at his parents’ house.”

“...We were _really_ loud.” Kirihara winced. 

“Yeeeeeah,” Gakuto groaned and rolled over, talking into his pillow. “I don’t mean to be an asshole, but maybe you should leave early.”

“...Sorry…”

“Pft! Nah, don’t. Don’t apologize.” He laughed a little and looked sideways at him.

“Seriously. Don’t.”

“Heh, okay. I’m not really sorry.” He rolled to face Gakuto, not as shy. “You’re fun.”

Gakuto blushed a little, the mood was a lot different now and he wasn’t expecting compliments. “Thanks. You can dance pretty well.”

“Not as good as you.”

“Mada mada… Wait, what did that kid always say?”

“What kid?”

“Ahh you know the one. The really good Seigaku kid. I can’t remember his name.”

“Oh duh I know him. Where have you been? Heh.”

Gakuto didn’t have the energy to answer that. “Mada mada… I don’t remember.”

“Me neither. Hey, can I go to the bathroom?”

Gakuto snorted. “Sure, you have my permission. It’s right outside on the left.” 

Kirihara scratched his head and sat up, laughing, embarrassed. “Right. Sorry, _senpai_.”

Gakuto rolled his eyes and turned his face back to his pillow. Maybe he could fall back asleep. Yeah, it would probably be better if Kirihara left early. He could feel the shame red on his face remembering– Everything had been going well, really well, _great_ actually, especially since he got to kiss. And, he got to kiss a really great kisser. Really, Gakuto had no reason to _try_ not to be loud–plus, he wasn’t the only one making a lot of noise.

Then Hiyoshi beat his door to death several times. “Mukahi-san, I’m trying to sleep.” Startled, they froze. They heard Hiyoshi’s door slam and looked at each other. “_Shit.” _

Kirihara started looking lost, so Gakuto hurried to kiss him and to keep kissing him, and they resumed, a lot quieter than before. 

So, it didn’t ruin the moment or anything, but he had to cringe for poor Hiyoshi. It would be extremely uncomfortable if he was in his place. Imagine having to listen to Hiyoshi having noisy sex with someone else on the other side of the wall, as he tried to sleep… But this was even worse. Sure, Hiyoshi was familiar enough with Gakuto’s noisiness… But this guy was _loud_, even his whole personality was loud. _The neighbors had it bad enough, _he thought. _Yuushi’s gonna make so much fun of me for this. _

He heard two doors close and Kirihara entered, shut the door behind him, and rigidly walked back to bed, burying himself deep in the covers.

“You didn’t tell me,” the comforter mumbled, “that your roommate is Hiyoshi Wakashi.”

Gakuto burst out laughing.

= = =

> Y: I can’t believe you forgot they were roommates at u17. You talked about it all the time
> 
> Y: you were so happy he made friends
> 
> G: Idk how I forgot. In my defense, all his roommates looked the same
> 
> Y: That isn’t even remotely true. You had me identify him by the back of his head. in the dark. Just hours ago
> 
> Y: You have no excuse
> 
> G: I am the worst roommate of all time 
> 
> Y: it could be worse. At least he’s not mad you cheated on him.
> 
> G: stfu I didn’t cheat that’s not funny
> 
> Y: poor hiyoshi feels inadequate now
> 
> G: I rly thought he was gone for the night
> 
> Y: so overall, do you wish you had stayed home with him instead
> 
> G: Fuck no
> 
> G: it was worth it
> 
> Y: I’m sure he could tell, from all the moaning. Poor thing 
> 
> G: ewww u shouldn’t be allowed to use that word 
> 
> Y: moaning? Why? What word am I supposed to use 
> 
> G: literally anything else
> 
> G: what are you looking at a dictionary lmao
> 
> Y: I’m back. So turns out the definition of moan is to express pain, dissatisfaction, or grief. Obviously not the case
> 
> G: edumacate me yuushi
> 
> Y: best synonym so far is howling
> 
> G: HOWLING
> 
> G: NOOO
> 
> Y: you and Kirihara woke hiyoshi up with your howling
> 
> G: please die
> 
> Y: hollering
> 
> G: Fuck
> 
> G: off
> 
> Y: I found the best one
> 
> Y: definition of "crow"  
verb  
intransitive verb  
1 : to make the loud shrill sound characteristic of a cock  
2 : to utter a sound expressive of pleasure  
3 a : to exult gloatingly especially over the distress of another  
b : to brag exultantly or blatantly  
transitive verb  
: to say with self-satisfaction
> 
> Y: every single one of these apply!
> 
> G: omfg
> 
> Y: the last 3 @ hiyoshi
> 
> Y: so you were crowing! Loudly.
> 
> G: ...could be worse tbh
> 
> G: But it’s not perfect because you had to add loudly
> 
> Y: take it or leave it, I don’t mind using moaning
> 
> G: oh no he’s home
> 
> G: I’m on the toilet
> 
> Y: thanks for sharing. Are you going to hide 
> 
> G: no!!of course not
> 
> G: …
> 
> G: should I
> 
> Y: just stay where you are forever
> 
> G: But I’m hungry 
> 
> G: ugh ttyl


	7. Irony

It had been a nice long morning of showing 11 year olds how to hit people with sticks. Now, Hiyoshi unlocked his apartment door with dread. Gakuto was going to want to talk about it, he just knew it. Hiyoshi did not want to talk about it.

Was he going to greet him immediately? If not… Maybe Hiyoshi could hide in his room. Ugh, but then Gakuto would skulk around the apartment waiting for him to emerge. Or, even worse, he’d knock on Hiyoshi’s door and try to force it. 

Fine. Hiyoshi is no coward. But he tired easily from this kind of thing. He would rather not think about it.

He returned the reusable shopping bag that holds his gi (an unexpected Hiyoshi-ism, Gakuto always said) to his room and decided to busy himself making tea. When Gakuto appeared he wouldn’t be just waiting around in obvious discomfort.

Gakuto came out of the bathroom and softly walked to the kitchen, hands in his hoodie pocket. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

3, 2, 1, inhale, begin: “I’m… Man I’m really sorry about last night. I thought… I don’t know why, I thought you were at your parents’, I _never_,” a small laugh, “I never would have let that happen if I knew–”

Hiyoshi had to snort a little despite himself, looking down at the kettle. “Mukahi-san, you’re always loud.” _Of all the things I could have said._

“–I mean, yeah, but only because I can be. I might not care about the neighbors, but I have respect for my roommate. I can be quiet if I need to.” His tone flipped from apologetic to defensive in a heartbeat.

“Hah. Right.”

= = =

In his defense–

Hiyoshi knew there was no defense, and in his shame he scrubbed himself punishingly when he showered.

That challenging look from Gakuto would infuriate anyone. Hiyoshi wasn’t a man to turn down a challenge. But he didn’t want to be someone so lacking in discretion, either. 

Then again, what really was the harm? 

He let the water pull his hair in a curtain over his eyes, reasoning. There was nothing technically wrong about sleeping with your fuckbuddy hours after listening to him do it with someone else. It sure wasn’t classy, though.

_What does that matter? _Obviously his parents wouldn’t approve, but he crossed that bridge back at the gay panic stage. Was it the inescapable impact of traditional values? Perhaps. 

He was skirting around his mind, trying to lie to himself. What had Hiyoshi the most guilty was that he was turned on for half the time it was happening. I mean, he knew what Gakuto getting fucked looked like, and someone seemed to be enjoying it at least as much as he had. And then, as if that wasn’t shameful enough, he found out it was _Kirihara. _

Kirihara _fucking_ Akaya showed up in _his_ apartment and fucked his _roommate_. Hiyoshi inhaled and closed his eyes tighter. He was going to take the absolute hottest bath he could tolerate.

Hiyoshi turned the shower off and sighed. He climbed in the bath and it burned, but he needed that. He remembered walking to the bathroom and opening the door and the light was so bright, unlike that hair, that familiar hair, dark and cruel. His stomach sank to his feet. Like a brick in his gut as realization hit, so heavy it hurt. He could barely look at him. 

A bruise forming above his collarbone, Gakuto’s work. At least he was wearing boxers. His skin was fucking blinding and his eyes were even worse and Hiyoshi hated how his hair curled falling in front of them, doing nothing to hide their spark. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even surprised. Because he knew that voice was familiar, deep down. Then Hiyoshi spoke, why did he _speak_, what a fucking pitiful idiot, just a tiny breath, “Akaya.”

Fuck. Why? He said it wrong? Why did he say _Akaya?_ Since when? _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. _He couldn’t have known, nobody would have, especially not Gakuto, but why did it have to be _him_? The gods were cruel.

Hiyoshi sank further under the water burning his chin, because this was the bathroom where Kirihara looked at him with hurt familiar eyes and said,

“I’m sorry. I lost your number.” 

_You’re apologizing for that? _Hiyoshi meant to say, but his mouth wouldn't behave.

Hiyoshi wanted an apology for the more recent time they saw each other, last year. He could have apologized for the number thing then, but they didn’t speak much. Kirihara showed up out of nowhere, magically appearing in his life, as he always does, and kissed him, as he always does. And for a heated set of seconds in the National Tournament locker room, the tournament he was ordered to leave, Hiyoshi almost forgot that he was in the midst of his worst day ever. Kirihara launched upon him as an oasis in his tragedy– it was physical salvation: a hungry, excellent, confusing distraction. He may have hated Kirihara Akaya, but he hugged Hiyoshi when he needed it most, tongue in his mouth, melting him like a fire again cool metal. Hiyoshi hugged him back, it was hot how they pressed together, pushing against the lockers, having his butt grabbed for the first time. Kissing like in the movies, being blinded by something new: raw craving and Excitement. For a good minute, Kirihara saved him from the devastation of fresh harsh reality: Atobe not giving a damn that their coach dropped Hiyoshi in the middle of Nationals. Hiyoshi’s heart, which had so deeply sunk, was suddenly racing–racing in a _good _way it never did before, and never did again. 

The interruption was jarring: angry knocks and Sanada Genichirou’s booming voice. In the end, it was the more shattering loss that day. His salvation immediately disappeared, leaving only an echo of a voice hot in his ear, vibrating with the words “They’re idiots, Wakashi.” Just like a glowing angel, the bright daylight behind the locker room door shrunk to nothing with his exit.

And he never fucking saw him again.

“I-it’s whatever,” Hiyoshi said, a year later, in _his_ bathroom, almost voiceless. And Kirihara’s stupid big shiny eyes looked sad, and they burned him more than this bath and he just... Left the room, _again_, while Hiyoshi stood there frozen. He hated everything. 

So after all this, he numbly went to sleep, numbly woke up, numbly worked, numbly came home, and used sex to cope with sex.

It probably wasn’t just his prudish upbringing. Hiyoshi was pretty sure this had an objective degree of scandal to it. 

After all, he would never in a million years tell anybody at all that it ever happened.


	8. Family: Yuushi

> G: I’m back

What a calm, leisurely weekend, reading in the family room. Yuushi peeked over his book at his phone. 

> Y: And?
> 
> G: Sex solves everything

Yuushi laughed, surprising himself and his mother in the other room. “What’s so funny?” she sounded pleased, it _was _a rare noise. “Just Gakuto,” he mumbled, smiling at his phone.  
  
“When is he coming over for dinner? Next week, okay? Thursday. Let him know, you will help me make something he’ll like. They don’t have good food in Russia, and it’s been months. And I still haven’t seen little Gakkun.”

“Mommm he’s not little, he’s an adult now.”

She came over and patted him on the head. “He is little, and so are you. Forever. I’ll make Erina come. She missed him, you know.” 

“I know.”

“I’m happy he’s back. For you, Yuushi. You need him, I think. Especially right now, he is a good friend for you, and I know you’re still upset about_ that girl_,” she had taken to calling his girlfriend, despite formerly adoring her. “Don’t make that face! I know you. Gakuto knows you too, he always took care of you. He’s a good boy.”

Yuushi managed a small smile. “Thank you.” 

> Y: Mother has decided you’re coming over for dinner next thursday.
> 
> G: NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE
> 
> Y: I’m cooking too, what do you want?
> 
> G: Can I sleep on it? Lol
> 
> Y: ah yes. Of course sir anything for you sir.
> 
> Y: would you like to choose the groceries yourself 
> 
> Y: Only the finest morning catch for Mukahi-sama
> 
> G: FINE, give me a minute to decide.
> 
> Y: Okay :)

Yuushi thought about what his mother had said; _“Gakuto knows you, he always took care of you.” _Took care of him? What was she referring to? Gakuto was a good friend, but he’d hardly describe it like that– if anything, it was the opposite, and that was common knowledge. 

Yuushi thought about it for the rest of the night.


	9. Family: Gakuto

** _= Winter =_ **

Gakuto used his own key to open the door. “I’m home,” he announced, to nobody, taking off his coat and shoes. He immediately felt like an intruder in his own house.

He walked through, following the slats of the wooden floor where he watched Yuushi fight against being pulled, scrambling, _losing_ the battle, until he was away, past the door and Gakuto never saw him again. _Ha, fuck you, he’s Back_. He wanted to feel triumphant, and he did. But the lines between the slats made him sick.

He was there. The door to his old room, Nori’s now. It made sense, but when Gakuto first returned to Japan and discovered he had seemingly been erased, he lashed out at his brother. It wasn’t fair, but it’s not like anything else had been. Now Nori treated him like a stranger, which was depressingly easy to do right back. They had no contact for almost four years.

He opened the door tentatively to sit on the floor of his old room, and imagined Shishido here, imagined them playing in the yard. “Nori-chan, you’re throwing the frisbee wrong! Let me show you.” The memory had him grinning at Shishido’s eternal bossiness and Nori’s hero worship. Gakuto remembered being so pissed that Shishido had stolen his little brother, he punched him. They both cried and Jirou cried by association, and then they made a pact not to tell on each other. They were so little. He tried to imagine their friendship now. Nori was still in elementary school when he left (a thought accompanied with a stab to the gut), and the idea of Ootori witnessing Nori calling Shishido “Ryou-chan!” made him chuckle out loud. 

He surveyed his surroundings. Everything was in different places. Most importantly, the desk wasn’t beside the bed anymore, so he couldn’t visualize the rest of what happened that day, the not-sickening part. He wondered what Nori would do if he moved the desk to the right place. He might walk in after school, “_What the hell are you doing?”_

_“Hey, Nori. Just trying to relive my traumatic gay past, obviously.”_

Gakuto stood up and stretched. This room wasn’t his anymore. 

Plus, he had no business reliving his first kiss. His intentions were pure– he wanted a happy memory to make him feel better. But he needed to pick a different one, one that didn’t jeopardize 40,000 yen. Reminiscing back to the peak of those feelings? Self-sabotage. Gakuto scolded himself in his head. _Don’t fuck yourself over like that._

He went into “his” room now, Nori’s old room that held a bed and boxes of all of his things. All of them. His mother made an effort to make it more homey, setting up photos and trophies on the dresser, gymnastics medals, even his tennis bag was sitting out.

There was a photo of all 200 Hyotei tennis club members from his second year and he grabbed it desperately. When he first got home, he couldn’t find a lot of his photos. Not any from his doubles matches, not any from the bus rides, none from the Las Vegas trip. There was a pattern to the missing photos, like Oshitari Yuushi had been censored out of this home.

_Did Mom decide to do this? Was she playing it safe? _Maybe it wasn’t even his parents. He’d find them.

Whoever censored his photo collection had missed one. Everyone was in tennis uniform standing on the bleachers, the regulars lined up in the front with their rackets and jerseys on. They were tiny, the team was different, and individuals were easy to miss. They were there, though. Yuushi was in it, at the end with Gakuto. It was great. Gakuto remembered now how he suggested they pose super seriously and badass. They faced each other on one knee, pretend to stab the ground with their rackets, looking serious and intense. Yuushi looked cool, of course. Gakuto’s face was weird, like he was clearly trying not to laugh. _Nailed it._

God, they were so _tiny_. Yuushi’s face was still round like a kid’s, his glasses looked so much bigger. Jirou was on Gakuto’s other side, beaming like a little curly-headed ball of sunshine. He found Shishido, he was smiling for the photo except his eyebrows were all intense so he looked angry, and he had the ponytail, of course. _Talk about a resting bitch face_. He started searching for Hiyoshi in the crowd, _now where is that little mushroom–_

_“_I’m home! Anyone here?”

Gakuto froze.

“Nori?” 

_Shit._

He put the photo in a box beneath school books and jumped back, like he was afraid to get caught. “It’s me,” he yelled out when he found his voice. He exited the room quickly and went to meet her. As apprehensive as he felt, instinct said to get this over with as soon as possible and get the hell out. They stopped before each other in the entrance.

“Gakuto. You’re back.” He held back a glare, _as if you didn’t know._

“Akari. You look nice.”

It was like looking into a mirror. They wordlessly stepped closer, both too stubborn to acknowledge why. They were never going to admit it in words, but he knew Akari was waiting too. Waiting for Gakuto to grow up, so they could see how they compared.

They were exactly the same height. Maybe same weight, even. They had the same eyebrows, but Akari had her hair dyed brown, long and styled with a curl at the bottom. Her face looked so much like his, but feminine. Her jaw was rounded, and her chin not quite as pointy, but the same sassy pursed lips and cutesy pointed nose. The only real difference was their eyes. Gakuto’s were rounder. Akari had cold bitch eyes, darker and narrower and catty.

“You changed your hair.” She spoke casually.

“It’s just a little long. I’m getting it cut tomorrow,” he lied.

“I see. You haven’t asked why I’m here.”

_So? You haven’t asked me, either. _Gakuto didn’t want to know why his sister was here.

“I was just leaving, sorry. Kind of in a hurry.” He walked past her and started putting shoes on.

“Gakuto, I know you don’t want to hear this,”

“It was nice to catch up, Akari.”

“Even if you don’t see eye-to-eye, you have to honor your parents–“

Gakuto whipped his head around and glared at her with all the venom in his being, the _audacity_. _Don’t see eye-to-eye? Are you fucking serious? _He made his voice as bitter and as hard as he could, but still heard it shaking. “Sorry, I must have _forgotten_ about _honor_ when he made me leave Japan.” He turned to leave before she could respond, wearing only half his coat. “Bye,” he muttered and slammed the door behind him, off and aiming for distance while he sleeved his other arm. Once he neared the station, he got out his phone and dialed.


	10. Happy Hour

He was still fitting the book into his bag, leaving the lecture hall, before he managed to pick up the phone. 

> Y: “You have eerily perfect timing.”
> 
> G: “Yuushi. Hey”.
> 
> Y: “Hey.”
> 
> G: “Listen. Sorry this is sudden.”

_Gasp, Gakuto and something sudden_. 

> “...So, I need to get drunk. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do it alone.”

_That is pretty sudden._

> Y: “Right now?” 

Yuushi checked his watch. He finished his last class early on Tuesdays, but it was barely 2pm. 

> G: “No! Well sure, but tonight I meant. Actually, probably now sounds like a good idea. I’ll be home. Apartment home. in 30 minutes probably. Just come over when you’re ready, I guess.”

His voice sounded like a completely different person’s.

> Y: “Okay, Gakuto. See you soon.”

He still needed to buy groceries for his mother, take them home, then make it back over toward campus. He’d pack some extra things and pick up something to eat. Whatever had happened, Yuushi knew it was going to be a long evening.

= = =

Hiyoshi watched as Gakuto kicked an inflatable beach ball around, endangering everything in the tiny apartment. Persuading him was to stop was futile, it appeared. His last effort was trying to secure breakables.

“Mukahi-san, I’ve done all I can, but if you knock the TV off the stand I’ll never forgive you.”

“When’s Yuushi gonna get here?”

_How the hell should I know?_

“Soon, I hope. When he gets here, can I leave?”

“You can leave when’re you want, Hiyoshi-kun.”

_Jeez. Not when you need babysitting. _

Almost as soon as Hiyoshi completed his apartment protection spell, Gakuto abandoned the ball for the kitchen and dug in a cabinet for a big unmarked, clear glass bottle and a stack of unmatched novelty shot glasses. 

“Mukahi-san, I have no intention of telling you how to live your life.” _That being said,_ “Is there a reason for your midday beach party?” His question dripped with disdain. Gakuto had already finished all their beer.

“Sister showed up, and, heh, she says–” 

Gakuto poured three shots very carefully, crouching so that he was eye level with the counter. 

“–I should go see dad, she says.”

He stood up and downed another, made a face, breathed out, “Ahh. Want one?” Hiyoshi sneered and declined. He didn’t understand how Gakuto could drink that shit, it smelled like pure alcohol. Not to mention how sketchy it looked. 

“Haven’t seen her since I was 14.” He put on an obnoxious and surely inaccurate mimicry, “‘Just because you don’t see eye-to-eye,’ she said that. _She said that to me.” _

He looked at Hiyoshi desperately, begging for validation. _Am I crazy?_ Hiyoshi knew to react immediately, to confirm, “That’s messed up,” and it was. 

There was a special way to handle Gakuto when he was like this. Hiyoshi couldn’t take time to digest it quietly, he couldn’t afford to hesitate, because it did damage; Gakuto doubted himself. Hiyoshi couldn’t wrap his head around it. The guy could have all the self esteem in the world, until it came to his own situation– he needed to know if he was overreacting or not, and he needed to be convinced. _Yes, Gakuto. Your dad is a bad parent. Your sister is out of line, it’s not your fault. _

Gakuto thanked him coolly and relaxed, but Hiyoshi knew it meant a whole damn lot to him–doesn’t take an expert to see hurt and panic leave someone’s face. 

There was a knock on the door. “I’m done talking about it,” Gakuto murmured, bringing the third shot with him to the door. Pausing at the handle, he took it effortlessly this time.

Gakuto hadn’t told Yuushi everything yet, he supposed. In any case, Hiyoshi’s relief babysitter had arrived. He grabbed his shopping bag and traded places with Yuushi at the threshold with a curt farewell.

Hopefully the place would still be standing when he got home.


	11. Vodka

_I’m back_. The door swung open and immediately the room assaulted Yuushi with noise, sparkly eyes, and a grumpy martial artist.

“Ooh! You brought something!” Is this how it is for fathers bringing children gifts from business trips? Gakuto asked for permission with a look and took the holy bag of take out, bouncing a bit toward the kitchen. “Thanks Yuushi! What else ya got?”

Yuushi held up a bottle. “I found this wine in a lonely hidden cabinet.” 

“Wine, huh? We’re such _grown-ups,_” he emphasized the last word with a mischievous smile.

Now this was interesting. He had never seen Gakuto drunk before. Sure, they drank together, but Gakuto always played it safe. Not today. 

“Thanks for throwing me a party, Gakuto. What inspired it?” Gakuto laughed merrily, even as he explained, “I went home today. Couldn’t find any photos you were in,” which wasn’t funny, but he sure was laughing. Yuushi had no doubt Gakuto would talk about it if he wanted to–_he_ wasn’t about to murder these good spirits. “Well, you know I’m always up for your shenanigans,” Yuushi hummed, dry except for a small smile, finally stepping deeper into the warm apartment. 

“Yup, that’s why you’re my best friend.”

Yuushi mostly watched Gakuto flit around the room, inspecting many things, wondering what to do. _God, this is so pure._ What a treasure. Sure, drinking was not a _preferred_ coping mechanism, but Yuushi wanted to protect the pocket of escapism his friend found. Gakuto must have had a really shitty day to down two shots of this suspicious, unlabeled vodka at 3pm. He inspected the shot glasses on the counter. One was from their 2nd year trip to Las Vegas. “I love how you you bought a souvenir shot glass when you were 13,” he chuckled. 

Gakuto headed over, “Of course, Yuushi. I’m always thinking about the future,” he said seriously, and Yuushi couldn’t help but laugh at such a blatant lie. He kept laughing when Gakuto put a third glass on the counter. “Did you just take that out of your pocket?” Gakuto beamed like he did every time he made Yuushi laugh, which was always flattering, at least a little. He even did it when he was being laughed _at._

“You want some?”

“Hmm. Sure.”

“REALLY?” 

Yuushi was definitely the first person to ever say yes. Gakuto poured him a shot ceremonially and bounced on his toes, _way _in his personal space, watching eagerly.

“Gakuto, you know I have stage fright.” He didn’t.

Gakuto ignored that, just vibrating there. Yuushi took the shot.

He felt it roll up his entire body, he could only close his eyes and open his mouth as he suffered in place. He opened his eyes and saw Gakuto’s disappointment. “I thought you’d make a face!” _Is this not a face? _Yuushi tried to catch his eyes desperately for help, only to fail and find a glass on his own.

“_Water,” _he dared not close his mouth.

Gakuto helped him out and Yuushi abandoned the entire vodka region of the apartment by taking three steps away and falling on the couch.

“Gakuto,” he heard his voice low and hoarse, his own throat was so traumatized it couldn’t convey his pain. “Was that really vodka?”

“Yup! Made it myself!”

Yuushi turned to him. “Did you really?”

“Yup! Went into the Siberian hills and farmed the potatoes myself– No, of fucking course not, Yuushi, I didn’t make my own vodka.”

“Harsh. How would I know? Russia is a mysterious place,” he shrugged. His head felt a little heavy.

“Actually, my Russian friend’s grandma made it. Isn’t it _terrible_?” Gakuto snickered.

“Gakuto.” _You’ve got to be kidding me. _“If you know it’s awful, why do you have it? And, _why did you make me drink it?”_

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Yuushi. It tastes disgusting. But it’s good stuff.”

He stared at Gakuto for a more satisfying explanation.

“Ah, I mean, it’s fun. It’s great if you want to forget stuff.” _Red flag, mild panic._

_“_Gakuto, is this _drugged?_”

He laughed, “NO, no Yuushi! Don’t worry we even tested the chemical components. It’s just special vodka!”

Tested the chemical components? “Your school was something else.” 

“Yeah,” he had taken to giggling in a deep voice, “we had a week every year where we could test whatever substance we brought in. Not that we could bring much in, but you know. People got creative.” He winced. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

Yuushi nodded, trying not to think too hard about it. “What do you want to do?”

“We’re gonna play UNO!”

Gakuto stood up to go to his room and waved Yuushi to get down to the kotatsu. “What a high brow choice,” Yuushi called out to him. “FUCK you!” he replied joyfully, cozying himself under the warm table. 

“Yuushi, do you know how to play UNO? Would you like me to explain?” Gakuto couldn’t pull off a straight face if his life depended on it. 

“Hmm, think I’ll manage. _Thanks_.” 

= = =

“I wanted to take a selfie with her. So so so bad, you have no idea. Then I could show you. What I’m talking about!”

His friend was wandering, bouncing on his feet aimlessly around the small space of the apartment again. He always had too much energy. “Gakuto. What _are_ you talking about?” 

“What? My sister.”

“Your sister.”

“Yes! She showed up today! Why do you think we’re doing this?” Gakuto grabbed the bottle clumsily off the counter to give it a shake for effect.

“What did you sister do?”

“What!? You know she’s a bitch, I’ve told you that!”

“Gakuto.” Yuushi fell back and looked at him with weary eyes. “You never gave me any details. Remember?”

“Oh. Okay. Well! Story time.”

Yuushi later recalled that the story went something like this:

When Gakuto was a small boy, many people mistook him for a girl. This was helped by the presence of his older sister Mukahi Akari, for Gakuto and Akari had a remarkable resemblance. This was the comment of many a friend and family, and it easily became something the siblings would play along with. Gakuto wasn’t really their spokesperson, he was too little. It wasn’t until he was older that he started looking less “just like Akari”, and more “look how cute he is!”

“She was a bitch because suddenly I was cuter than her!” 

Indeed. Gakuto grew a few years and suddenly nobody was talking about how cute Akari was. Her little look alike he was no more.

Things progressed passive aggressively until Gakuto and Akari had just enough age gap for the reversal, the infamous ”they look like twins!” era.

Akari preferred this, because then they fawned over her and him as a unit, so she wasn’t missing out on any attention. But over time, the sentiments evolved. Akari and Gakuto, such beautiful children, Akari and Gakuto, they look like twins, Akari, she has such good grades, Gakuto, he’s so cute, Akari, she does dance, Gakuto, he does cartwheels, Gakuto, he does dance, they say, “Gakkun come show auntie your dance.”

Things were not looking good for her. 

As a result, she was very cold to Gakuto. Their mother thought he was cuter than her, is what she thought. 

“She was a bitch to me but I was too little to do anything and she was super mean, ugh fuck her, but then they would push us together, say shit like, ‘Oh they look just like twins’ and they’d… analyze?... Us each, and she acted like we were best friends! She _bragged_ on me, but then she got pissed whenever I fucking talked!”

“Did you talk a lot?”

“Pffffffffff, hahahahah uh yeah.” Gakuto laughed and laughed, Yuushi asked such a stupid question.

“But yeah, she was a bitch, so I told her to fuck off, and we’ve never been close. And it’s pretty much been the same way all these years. It sucks, ‘cause if I called her on her shit my dad got super angry, so I just had to put up with it. Whatever. I ended up being cooler than her and she’s been jealous ever since. We didn’t even speak when I was in junior high, almost ever, unless she was being a whore and I heard about it.”

On those occasions, Akari would play nice because Gakuto had dirt. ‘Nice’ in this sense meant that she basically switched from mean glares to ignoring him for a few weeks, and it was better that way for the both of them. 

Nori was there too, but he was small. Honestly, from how Gakuto told the story, it seemed everyone forgot about him in the presence of the twin brats.

“A baby forgotten. Poor Nori. You were just that cool, Gakuto.”

“Stop, you’re making me feel like an asshole for ditching him today. But I SAW Akari.”

Yuushi finally solved the mystery of why he was so drunk on a weekday afternoon.

“WE LOOK EXACTLY THE FUCKING SAME?”

“Hmmm, is that so...”

“Yep, it’s me with brown hair and boobs.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me, can I meet her?”

“FUCK OFF, Yuushi.” He threw an empty plastic bottle of something at him. And then he sat down next to him in front of the couch, quiet, serious, and drunk as hell. It was almost like he was pouting (definitely like he was pouting) but Yuushi didn’t mention it.

Gakuto stretched his arms out and leaned back against the couch. He put the bottle of wine next to him, and that’s about the time Yuushi’s memories got patchy.

_What did we talk about again?_

Yuushi could tell how close Gakuto was from how close his voice was.

They lowered their volume, spoke as if sharing secrets.

By the time it was dark out, and it got _cold, _but they were far too drunk to notice or think of turning the lights on.

Gakuto’s head knocked against Yuushi’s knees on the floor after he flipped and settled there, lying back on the ground, legs hooked over the edge of the couch in a perfect right angle. Warmth by Yuushi’s ear.

Yuushi leaned against the familiar legs, an upright pillow on which to rest his head. He talked about things that made Gakuto laugh, his chest moving, jaw back and a joyful smile, and every so often their eyes would meet, and they’d start making fun of how drunk they were.

Those legs, the legs,_ I remember, hopping over a fence, flying above my head, stretching next to me while we talked at our lockers after practice._

Imagine being that stretchy. 

It was cute back then

and now.


	12. Gakuto's Rainbow

“See, it’s like a rainbow.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. See lean your head back,” Gakuto was lying on top of his chest, confused Yuushi complied. 

“Okay so here,” he started with his finger on the end of Yuushi’s jaw under his right ear, “all the way, “ he slid his finger to his chin “to here, but don’t stop, and then,” his finger slid to the other side of his jaw. “Okay, wait.” Gakuto tried a few more times until he did the movement vaguely like a semicircle. “See? A rainbow.”

Yuushi couldn’t stop smiling. “Why is it a rainbow?”

“‘Cause!!! You don’t get it?” He moved his finger like that again, it felt nice tracing under his jaw so softly. He’d let Gakuto do it as many times as he needed, to really make Yuushi understand. 

Gakuto’s rainbow was not traditionally formatted. “And, there are all the colors!” He hushed, moving up his chest, and, oh. He planted the tiniest softest kiss on one side of his jaw, moving across the edge, another and another one for every color along the arc, and Yuushi inhaled sharply and couldn’t breathe because this was the sweetest thing to ever happen to him in his entire life. 

Gakuto had made it to the end and started on the way back, this time a little faster, “Are there lots of colors in the rainbow?” Yuushi managed hoarsely, and Gakuto propped himself up better with his arms around Yuushi’s chest, steadying his rainbow with a hand, and Yuushi tilted his neck accordingly. “Yeah Yuushi, lots of colors.” He started back again, and again, leisurely greeting all the colors with kisses, until they were getting lazier. His lips stopped moving as far away after each kiss, so sometimes they dragged across his skin between kisses, or, colors, and lit him like a candle, another cozy flame with each kiss. Yuushi thought maybe Gakuto got tired because then he lingered at the edge of his jaw, where he could reach with his face resting on his shoulder there, and just repeated soft kisses in the same place,_ “treasure at the end of the rainbow,” _and how that low husky sentence made Yuushi hum deeply. The kisses migrated down to just below his jaw, to his neck, peppering them softly again up to a spot just below his ear, and all Yuushi could do in his hazy rainbow state was relax and enjoy the sensation. So foggy with affection, he barely thought about his arms wrapping and his hands dragging, raking from Gakuto’s neck up through his hair. The kisses on his neck were a little deeper now. And he tightened his grip on his hair because Gakuto’s whole mouth had covered that little part of his neck, sucking, tasting.

Yuushi gasped, and tensed his body up, _how did he do that, wow_, and he knew Gakuto was pleased with himself because he felt the lips on his neck move into the shape of a smug smile.

Then the mouth softly dragged up and toward his ear, and in a blink of an eye teeth nipped, clung to his earlobe, his tongue passing across it, and Yuushi was beyond his own state of mind and he murmured from deep within, “_Gakuto.”_

And everything stopped. 

“I’m sorry! Oh my god I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Gakuto was panicked and breathy. 

“I’m sorry, Yuushi, I didn’t mean it… I forgot… I forgot..I’m so dumb… I was having fun! I was just having fun, I promise! I’m sorry–”

...Was he really freaking out? “Gakuto It’s okay–“ 

“No, it’s not, it’s not safe, Yuushi it’s not,” 

Yuushi knew he was pretty drunk. But, Gakuto was really, _really_ drunk. Now his eyes were closed and he was just whispering “safe, safe, not safe,” in quiet little puffs, and Yuushi had no idea what was going on. He was having fun too? Why did they stop having fun? Who cared about whatever? It’s not like he was cheating. Why was Gakuto freaking out so much? _How can I fix this?_

“It’s okay… Fun is good, I was having fun, I’m sorry. We can have fun.” He petted his friend’s shivering head and Gakuto looked at him pleadingly and reached up to bring him back down, snaking his arms under Yuushi’s and hugging him tight, “Cool,” he said softly.

= = = 

They woke up under the blanket, warm and a little sweaty. And more sober.

“Not good,” Gakuto groaned, describing many things at the moment.

“You said you were over it,” Yuushi whispered softly, a condolence,

_Is it an accusation or is he saying it’s no big deal? _Gakuto didn’t wonder, because he wasn’t _that _sober. 

“You said you were in love with a girl.”

“...Yeah. I did...”

“I am over it, Yuushi.” Everytime he said Yuushi’s name it got worse. “I got over it. But that doesn’t mean it couldn’t start from the beginning.”

His eyes were watering, but only because he was still drunk. Yuushi turned to him, with a look cruelly asking him to continue.

“You’re still you.” He swallowed and couldn’t look at him. Yuushi was quiet for a few seconds. 

“I’m still me.” He waited again, and Gakuto was brave, _too brave_, vodka brave. First he planned the words, then he started tearing up a bit, and he had to stop that, which he did. Then he dissected the words, just saying the sounds and not focusing on the meaning, like a robot programmed with speech.

“There’s a reason it happened in the first place.” 

There was a good pause between each of the things they said, but this one was a bit shorter, “_Gakuto_.” Gakuto looked at Yuushi, couldn’t read him, even though it seemed like, for once, he was trying to be read. A guess said he was either deeply touched or apologetically pitying him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Gakuto said in a tiny sour voice, but Yuushi didn’t stop, or loosen his arms around him. Gakuto turned away, and squeezed his eyes shut, because Yuushi hugged him _tighter_ and he was helpless to resist. And _how_ he buried that face in his hair, and Gakuto heard him whisper _“last one.”_

It was time for deep breaths. He may have been drunk but deep panic prevailed. He had to nip this in the bud, now. 

“Okay, but then you can’t do things like that anymore.” _You mean ‘we’ can’t_, he knew. “I know I’m not exactly… pure, but you aren’t the kind of friend I can kiss,” he tried casually. Yuushi, ever the cynic, laughed a bit. 

“Yeah, the last time I kissed you I ruined your life.”

= = =

When Gakuto pulled out of the last hug it felt like ripping off a bandaid. A massive bandaid, for some extreme wound, _what an irony_, he recognized.

“_Stop_,” he snapped, turned to him. 

“Quit. Saying. That.” _Aaaand, he’s mad._

“You did not _ruin_ my life. My _father _ruined my life. Got it?” Yuushi forgot how to nod or say yes, he was so burned by the glare. “Alright,” he managed.

“Anyway, it’s not a problem.” Gakuto clumsily sat up and away, “Just preventative measures. Let’s play video games.”

He didn’t wait for an answer and got up to dig under the tv, mumbling in a sing-song casual way about what game they were going to play.

Yuushi was out of sight, nodding anyway. “You choose.” It was looking like a very long night.


	13. Sate/Sedate

Gakuto stared back at the ceiling. He hadn’t moved since he woke up. 

Yuushi woke up first, half under the kotatsu, a safe distance away, and about 3 seconds into first glance Gakuto was hit by a bus.

His hair was messy. Disheveled. A look that didn’t work with Gakuto’s hair, at all, which was _the point_, but on Yuushi– _good god._ Then he ran a hand through that dark hair across the side of his head, which hit Gakuto with another bus. Down to the way his fingers unfolded when they returned to his lap, lazily dropped. 

Gakuto couldn’t stop looking. Yuushi clearly didn’t remember where his glasses were, and after twisting around to look a few times, he gave up.

Then he rubbed his sleepy eyes, dark and hot sleepy eyes, and he... _pouted_. 

_Oh my god._ Gakuto was absolutely staring. Sleepy Yuushi stuck his lip out and scrunched his eyes a little bit. A true pout–a never before seen Yuushi, and Gakuto felt like the most blessed person alive. His eyes climbed across his jawline and he gained a last-night memory with a wave of heat, and suddenly really really really needed Yuushi to turn his head to the other side. _Oh shit. Shit, this is bad. _

“Ysh” he caught his attention as lazily as possible. He was suddenly self conscious, but it was too late. Yuushi turned to him slowly, and his sleepy Yuushi pout changed. He squinted a little, just for a second, like his brain was flickering on, and smirked at him. Another bus.

He held his breath and tried to remain absolutely motionless, _fuck, this is bad._

Gakuto was un-over it. 

It only got worse, because then Yuushi _spoke. _As silky as Gakuto had ever heard him, accent thick, maybe exaggerated, like a little song, _“Good morning Gakuto._”

Gakuto groaned, and Yuushi’s way too sexy smirk turned into an affectionate eyebrow raise, or probably mocking, and his voice had a little sarcastic laugh in it. “Aww, are you hungover?”

“Mmmeh.” He had gone from groaning to whining.

“Are you trying to be cute so I’ll take care of you?” Another low laugh his throat as he leaned back on his hands and turned back to the table. “Sorry, I don’t feel like getting up.” Then he flopped back down and closed his eyes and Gakuto could kind of see his eyelashes on his cheeks and he got hit by a few more buses when Yuushi stretched his arms out.

“Water, Yuushi. Water.”

“No, you water,” he mumbled back.

_Dammit, why is this the one time he won’t spoil me? _“What time it,”

Yuushi hummed while he reached around for his phone, finally fishing it out from deep beneath the couch. “It 6:30.”

_Early. That’s early. _Gakuto rolled his head to face Yuushi, who wasn’t looking at him at all. He was simply existing in hungover sleepiness, and Gakuto... Was horny as hell.

Ignoring consequences, he let his dick do the thinking. _I wonder if he’d let me initiate if I went over there. Would he push me away if I kissed him? Damn, I could go down on him, he wouldn’t turn that down, right? _Gakuto’s dick was mad at his drunken self for setting boundaries against exactly that.

_I would definitely blow him right now, I don’t care how bad this headache is. _While a visualization of that activity played in the background, he just stared at Yuushi’s closed eyes, his deep breathing, passing through his slightly parted lips. Gakuto squirmed and adjusted his thighs. He managed to harness his brain back to his head, _Why is this happening, why now, and why am I so horny? _Perhaps another effect of the mystery vodka.

Gakuto was confident he could get Yuushi to fuck him, but as he woke up more he further remembered the consequences. _What if we’re too hungover for the sex to be that great and there’s irreparable damage– _

Then he remembered the bet.

“Fuck,” he muttered. Unfortunately, he was kind of all fidgety, just from watching Yuushi wake up all sexy, and, speak, and, _he called me cute I think_.

His hand was just cm below his waistband, _just to adjust,_ when Yuushi turned to him and started a conversation. 

_Abort abort abort abort abort abort abort–_

“Ha, are you still drunk? You’re really red.”

Gakuto just flipped the other way and forcefully grumbled, “Go away.”

Yuushi sighed, “Fine. I’ll be back.” He peeked up at Yuushi who stood up and stretched, right next to him. He could even see where his shirt rode up for a few seconds. Then he was out of sight, unfortunately, because Gakuto would have liked to watch him walk the few steps it took to get to the bathroom.

That morning was rough for Gakuto. Yuushi wouldn’t _leave_. To be fair, he spent the night intentionally, and they didn’t have class until 9, but Gakuto had... Stuff to tend to. Without him there. That might involve Hiyoshi. 

Man, how did Yuushi turn into sex on heels overnight? Was he forgetting something? Did Yuushi use powerful seduction sorcery on him?

He remembered that he did something before realizing it was a bad idea, but he was pretty sure they didn’t kiss for real since Yuushi said “the last time I kissed you” about back then. Besides, he definitely would have remembered that. Definitely. What he strongly recalled was that he kissed his neck. He had yet to get a view of the spot where he might have left a mark, might being the keyword. Unless it was just a _really_ good dream, that and the noises Yuushi made because of it were the most significant memory. And probably the culprit behind his current situation.

“I need to shower,” Yuushi yawned toward the kitchen where he got two cups of water, folding his legs to sit back next to Gakuto . “I got sweaty sleeping under the heater with all these clothes,” he mumbled, and Gakuto had to wonder if he was doing it on purpose. In a mission of unstoppable self-sabotage, he decided to test it.

“You could have taken some off to sleep,” he yawned, trying to sound casual, _that sounded even more suggestive than I thought. _Yuushi gave him a cryptic look, probably studying his innocence. “It didn’t occur to me.”

Gakuto just shrugged and avoided eye contact as much as he could. Through award winning self control, he survived the battle that way.

= = =

Gakuto beelined to Hiyoshi’s door as soon as Yuushi was gone and knocked, entering when he heard grumbling. “Hiyoooooshi,” he tried to be very nice. “I’m sorry for waking you,” he got on the ground and crawled over to his bedding.

“What do you want?” Grumpy eyes peeked out from under his covers.

“Good morning,” Gakuto said, biting his lip and nearly hovering over him. “Want a wake up present?” 

“I’m asleep Mukahi-san, go away.” 

Gakuto pouted. 

_That doesn’t work on me, brat. _

_“But Hiyoshi,” _Gakuto had no dignity, whispering in his ear, _“I’ll even make you breakfast.” _

If he meant real breakfast the offer was tempting. Hiyoshi could hold him to it.

A leg came over to straddle him, Gakuto loomed above. After a few more seconds, just a few more, Hiyoshi would start pushing him away but...

Gakuto lowered his weighty whisper to Hiyoshi’s ear, _“Just sit back, relax, close your eyes.” _

_I'm so sleepy but ugh that does sound okay maybe._

“I'll warm you up, it’ll be nice.”

_But wait, Oshitari was just here._

Hiyoshi gathered some of these thoughts side by side.

He felt hips closing in and pushed him off, Gakuto thudded back to the floor cursing. 

“Oshitari was here. You didn’t get it from him and he left you here groveling like a–”

“Shut up.”

“You think I'm gonna help you win my bet? I think not!” Hiyoshi lay back and laughed and laughed, and pointed to the door. “You’ll have to find someone else. Now get out!”

= = =

Gakuto was in luck. As it turned out, Kirihara had decided to skip school that day. 

> G: you should come over
> 
> K: ok what u wanna do
> 
> G: i got video games
> 
> K: sweet i’ll be there in an hour
> 
> K: is hiyoshi there lol
> 
> G: no that shithead has to work lmao
> 
> G: seeya soon

30 minutes later, Gakuto texted again: 

> G: this is a booty call btw

He laughed to himself waiting for response, cleaning up the apartment after he changed. He kept waiting for and kept not getting a reply, which was kind of just a bit nerve-wracking. Finally, at the end of the hour:

> K: yes sir 

Gakuto barely had time to read it before there was a knock on the door, which he opened to reveal Kirihara leaning on the door frame.

“Hey.”

The guest toed his shoes off and they were kissing. Gakuto needed just this, this plain and simple satiation to patch up his morning’s fractured sanity. Kirihara was a straightforward, understanding guy who’d do just the trick. No time wasted, no bullshit, pivoting so Gakuto could push him back onto the couch, getting pulled down with him. 

See? Everything was going to be just fine.


	14. PART 3 - Oshitari and Mukahi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 is a series of brief flashbacks.

= **PART 3** =

“Are you afraid of heights?”

Oshitari spun around at the voice. 

“If I was afraid of heights, why would I be on the roof?” he responded smoothly. He was really quite alarmed, turning around on the spot slowly to seek out the source of the voice.

“You aren’t from Tokyo, are you?” It didn’t sound rude or snobbish like it might have, just a question. Oshitari was annoyed he couldn’t pin down its direction. 

“What does that have to do with heights?” he muttered. He tried not to show that he was losing patience, that’s always the first step in pinning down the new kid. Then, he heard giggling, closer. From above? He turned and spotted a boy scaling down the water tower. _The ladder is right there,_ he chided himself for missing it.

“You sit in front of me.” The tiny boy approached him with hands behind his back, rocking on his feet, challenging him with giant round eyes. Was he trying to be intimidating? His head reminded Oshitari of an apple.

“I watched you play tennis against Atobe.” 

“You were there?” Oshitari was legitimately surprised he didn’t notice such a kid. 

The boy’s face quickly transformed into a furrowed eyebrows and a most impressive pout. “I was on the court when you walked on.”

_Oh, oops. _“Ahh, I’m sorry…”

“Now I feel bad for trying to be your friend,” he crossed his arms, he looked hurt. “You don’t even remember me and I sit behind you in class.”

“Of course I remember you!” Oshitari said, more desperately than he would have liked. “I remember you from class, I mean. Your name is Mukahi Gakuto. I’m Oshitari Yuushi, it’s nice to meet you.” He bowed a bit. _So formal, _said the look on Mukahi's face, but only for a second before he looked pleased. 

“Good. Now we’re friends!” Apparently, it was decided.

Oshitari almost laughed at the forwardness. He nodded to agree, because for some reason, he trusted that this kid wasn’t messing with him. “So you play tennis?”

“Yup! I love tennis. I’m going to be a regular too!” the boy boasted and stretched his arms behind his head, smiling widely. _This guy?_

“We’ll see.” But Oshitari gave him a true grin. “We should get back to class.”

“Yup!” Mukahi bounded to the door ahead. Oshitari thought an apple was too red to match his hair. Mukahi looked more like a dark cherry, he decided, the really sweet ones.

“Come on, Oshitari-kun, you gotta keep up!”


	15. Gakuto Turns 13

“Yuushi?”

“Yeah?” Gakuto was so sleepy, and Yuushi’s voice was so soft, and he was so warm. It was Gakuto’s 13th birthday.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know if this is okay.”

“Oh… Sorry, you should have said, I thought it made you feel better.”

“Wait… you don’t have to go. It. It does.” Gakuto wiped his face, this was so embarrassing but Yuushi had been so kind, that it was sort of okay.

“I don’t care about things like that, you know,” Yuushi settled back down under the covers and returned his arm around Gakuto’s back. Gakuto felt so tiny, and he felt like a baby for crying so much, but he buried his face into Yuushi’s shirt which was already wet, and Yuushi pet his hair down, smooth and soft. Gakuto felt foolish but all he could do was squeak, “I’m sorry,” and he should stop being a burden but he was so sleepy, and it did feel better, hugs really did help.

Yuushi’s voice was so comforting when he whispered, “shh,” over and over, “it’s okay, you can go to sleep,” and he never once stopped petting him. Gakuto wondered how this happened; how he met this kid who never _truly _smiled, and made all these sarcastic comments, who acted like he didn’t care about anything, or seriously care about anyone. And here he was, being absolutely the nicest person ever to Gakuto, and fixing everything. Yuushi’s secret. He would never betray it.

= = =

The next morning Yuushi woke up with his shirt still damp. Gakuto was gone, his arm felt weird, and he couldn’t seem to find his glasses. _Ugh. _Mornings. But then he heard the unmistakable drumming of feet across the wooden floors, into his room, and the mystery was solved.

“Yuushi! You’re awake!” Gakuto peered over him, wearing his glasses, and he never stopped wiggling his knees. “Your mom made _pancakes!”_

_A job well done_.


	16. Bright Eyes

Hiyoshi didn’t really _need _his glasses. After all, he put contacts in anyway.

But he really wanted them back, and he was willing to do anything to get them.

“Kirihara!” he growled. He turned around the hallway listening for evil laughter or his roommate’s distinctive voice. Several doors were open in the U-17 Camp’s middle schoolers hallway, and any of the rooms could house that thief. Kirihara was far too comfortable busting into people’s rooms uninvited, and this put the respectful Hiyoshi Wakashi at a disadvantage.

He heard his voice. _Yes. _Hiyoshi darted to Shishido and Ootori’s room at his sneakiest. That demon brat couldn’t keep quiet to save his life.

As soon as he reached the threshold, Kirihara was right in front of him, surprising him, and shoved his way out under Hiyoshi’s arm before he could be stopped. 

He was wearing Hiyoshi’s glasses.

Hiyoshi turned and raced after him into their room, laughing to himself at how stupid Kirihara’s exaggerated, taunting “hahaha!”s sounded. 

He got his hand to the door and swung in, but he was too late. Kirihara was up in the bunk smiling at him cattily. 

“You’re so childish,” Hiyoshi grumbled, “That’s _my _bed!” 

His glasses looked better with seaweed hair, maybe.

“Haha, sore loser! Come on Hiyoshi, aren’t you a martial arts master?”

“I think we’ve already established that.” Hiyoshi hopped on the ladder and Kirihara got to scrambling. He was going to try and jump off the ledge!

If anyone asked Hiyoshi whether or not he and Kirihara were friends, he’d say yes. Because if he said no, and Kirihara found out he said no, he’d act all sad and tell on him to his senpai and create a hell for Hiyoshi, which he would deserve. Because whether or not he wanted to advertise it, they were friends.

Kirihara jumped on the floor nicely but Hiyoshi carelessly jumped after him, tackling him flat to the ground. 

_What’s happening?_ Kirihara turned around and smiled, _god_ he was cute, _too cute_ in Hiyoshi's glasses. Hiyoshi let it distract him until Kirihara tried to push him off snickering, knowing he caught him off guard. _Does that mean he knows?_

Hiyoshi pinned his body down harder to stop him and they stared at each other, challenging. Maybe, at least it was supposed to be. Kirihara's mischievous smile made Hiyoshi want to smile so badly, he could feel the corners of his mouth fighting, but he kept still and they kept up their staring contest. Finally Kirihara stuck out his tongue, waiting for something to happen. 

_Stop. He's too cute._

His bright eyes stuck to Hiyoshi’s and he went back to his silent shaking chuckles, and overcome with insanity Hiyoshi lowered his face and kissed him.

It was brief. He rose right back up, just a short press of lips and the smallest noise that proved it happened. Their eyes met again and Kirihara had stopped smiling. Hiyoshi grabbed his glasses and stood up and away.

He never regretted anything so much in his life.


	17. PART 4 - Chance

= **PART 4** =

> R: Message could not be delivered.

Yuushi first noticed the message the night before while Gakuto danced around the apartment. He made the wise decision to put his phone away, far away, under the couch he sat against. 

Now he was sober and it felt a lot more real, looking at it. _So that’s it then._ Rusa wasn’t going to give him another chance. Except, he didn’t mess up his first chance, she dumped him because she was afraid he’d leave her eventually. Chance was an interesting word choice, why did people start saying that? Either way, it was determined he didn’t deserve another.

_Do I?_

It would be a lie to say that Yuushi didn’t have feelings for Gakuto. He always has, he thought. Since third year, when he realized Gakuto had a crush on him. 

It wasn’t hard to figure out. Yuushi knew Gakuto well and knew how to read him, and he knew the signs. There was also some teasing from their teammates to really light up the arrows, in case Yuushi was oblivious. 

That isn’t to say he figured it out all at once.

First he _knew._ He didn’t know what signs he was seeing, he had no way to justify it, but he knew. Only later could he put it into words. Little things were different. Gakuto’s head turned so quickly to him when he walked into the room, and Yuushi noticed whenever he looked at Gakuto that a lot of the time, he was already looking back. Then Yuushi would realize that none of this was _new. _It had set in so gradually that Yuushi had to pick it apart to even realize what it meant.

In any case, Gakuto liked him, and he probably had since they were younger, but now (then) he really meant it. So Yuushi thought about it.  
He loved Gakuto, the way you love people you really care about, like he loved Kenya. Gakuto was his closest friend that wasn’t a relative. He was an important fixture in Yuushi’s life, his presence gave him comfort. Even if he was being a brat, it was okay because that’s just how he was. Stubborn and blunt and excitable. 

Above all that, he was his doubles partner. He trusted Gakuto and depended on him, though not as much as Gakuto depended on Yuushi to cover for him in the back. They were great together, really. Gakuto was energetic and spontaneous and pulled insane trick shots, Yuushi was careful and calculating, precision and technique focused. As individual players they were unique and distinctive, and very very different. Whatever one lacked could be found in the other, plus some. 

Yuushi knew this didn’t apply only in tennis. Gakuto always gave him a fresh perspective. Yuushi was naive to sometimes think he knew everything Gakuto knew already, or that he had him all figured out. He should have known better. Gakuto was full of surprises, and he saw the world in a bit of a different way. It kept Yuushi… Grounded. Like without Gakuto he wouldn’t have as trustworthy a perception of reality, he wouldn’t have anything to measure his own thoughts against. He didn’t know if he was weird or up in the clouds, but if Gakuto thought it was okay… He was confident. 

He stopped talking to Gakuto about the girls he took to movies. Sometimes Gakuto would tease or ask, but Yuushi always played it off, or gave vague answers accompanying suggestive smiles. He guessed Gakuto was trying to prove he was okay. Maybe he was trying to get over it. 

Yuushi thought, _that’s not very romantic._ It was one thing to politely brush off girls that had crushes on him, but Gakuto wasn’t like that, it felt wrong to even think about.

He was _awfully_ cute. Every time he walked somewhere, even a short distance, it was never just walking. He bounced in his steps, in different ways. The casual bounce, an initial little hop that became walking. The annoyed walk, where he’d kick a little in his steps. The excited, which was more bounce than step, bounding like a rabbit and laughing, infectious. It made Yuushi smile.

He wanted to like Gakuto, but he didn’t want to trick himself. He didn’t want to mistake wanting to like him for truly liking him. In any case, they were only 15. They had plenty of time to figure it out.

Upon the decision to be passive, the situation took its own reins, just like in the novels. You never have as much control as you think (Yuushi would finally learn later.)

It didn’t take much to encourage each other–it changed seamlessly, but very fast. 

The flirting. The small silences of admiration between their interactions, maybe in a long look. More and more of Gakuto was cute, Yuushi was starting to notice, from the front, from behind, even his _laugh._

Then. One day Gakuto was doing homework and talking about a book they were reading, and in his own discussion he made connections and excited himself. And it was...

So endearing. Adorable. And he looked so perfect in the silly hat delicately placed on his head for fun while they worked.

So he waited for Gakuto to finish and say, “So, yeah,” and look to Yuushi for his response. Yuushi had no words. So he kissed him.

It was right. 

There was no discussion or question or surprise, nothing but a small thrill that starts in your gut and branches out. Gakuto let himself be kissed at first, then kissed back, drifting fingers along Yuushi’s cheek. It wasn’t passionate, but first kisses aren’t supposed to be. It was perfect as it was, simple and quiet. Gakuto’s hat fell off. Happy learning lips took their time to feel, getting the most out of it. Then the smallest, tiniest gap, lips closing and eyes cracking for a fraction of a second before they were kissing again, slow and simple and savoring the newness and purity. Yuushi steadied Gakuto's chin, a nice chin. The wind was blowing through the open window, a wind chime tinkling. It was so romantic…

“Get out.”

One thing Yuushi regretted the most is that, while Mukahi-san dragged him out of the room and down the hall, he couldn’t see Gakuto, couldn’t look back to see him in the doorway, not even a glimpse. His father shoved him out the front door, and Yuushi never saw him, he didn’t get to say goodbye. He didn’t even get a parting look.

After your first kiss you’re supposed to look at each other and smile shyly and just be pure happy for that one instant in time, then if you’re lucky, kiss again–

But when Yuushi opened his eyes Gakuto was looking elsewhere, eyes wide in fear.

It was distinct in his memory. Gakuto looked like a deer in headlights, but with a confused sadness to it. Like something so good was happening and he couldn’t adjust fast enough for a look of pure panic. Like a drunk deer in headlights. The sad, scared fear was there, more scared than Gakuto had ever shown, so scared that it made Yuushi want to cry, and he would, later. 

Before he could look at Yuushi, just one goodbye Look was all Yuushi fucking wished he had,

Yuushi was on the floor by his collar. He scrambled to get back on his feet but the force was so sudden and fast and unexpectedly strong.

He didn’t get to meet Gakuto’s eyes but he heard him screaming. Not yelling, but a kind of desperate screaming to stop, stop, you can’t hurt him, what are you doing–

But the door slammed and Yuushi was sitting on the pavement. Gakuto's dad came back and threw his books and tennis bag onto the ground next to him,

“Never come here again.”

Walking home, he knew he’d have to wait awhile before Gakuto could text him. They probably wouldn’t get a chance to talk til school the next day, so in the meantime Yuushi’s mind reeled. He could still see Gakuto, just not at his home. That would be okay.

Even if he was grounded, there was still school. Genius Oshitari Yuushi, smug and calculating and very bitter, would not be easily defeated.

But Gakuto didn’t come to school, for days. Yuushi worried. Everyone asked him what happened but he was vague, “he fought with his dad.” He was afraid if he spoke it, it would somehow cement all his fears, even if it was too late to affect the outcome.

“_What if his dad killed him?” _He let himself entertain the second day. Just let the thoughts form a sentence in his head, that’s all. The third day he was scared. 

The fourth day he had his first panic attack in the bathroom after math class, after which he took a really long nap in the nurse's office. He knew he had to go to tennis.

He didn’t go to tennis. He was “sick”. He went home and freaked out more. He had to do something, who to ask. Atobe? Shishido? Atobe. Atobe could do anything and never asked questions. Yuushi texted him. 

> Y: Gakuto's dad might have murdered him. Can you check?

Atobe didn’t reply, but it calmed Yuushi to have done something. He knew he read it and that he was on it, for whatever could be said about the guy (and there was so much), Atobe made things happen.

It was Shishido who knocked on his door an hour later. Yuushi opened it and couldn’t breathe. 

“You look like shit.” Yuushi wasn’t very good at facial expressions so his panic and desperation must have gotten through, because Shishido quickly assured, “he’s not dead.” The _but_ implied by that left Yuushi with the same fear. Not dead could mean in a hospital-

“Hey. Oshitari. Breathe, dude. Can I come in?” He raised his eyebrows, impatient. _So sensitive. _

“It’s okay.” Maybe Shishido gained self awareness, because his voice got softer while he took his shoes off. “He’s okay.”

They went to Yuushi’s room, where all of his questions were defeated–not in that they were answered, but because they could no longer be asked. _If he’s okay why didn’t he figure out how to contact me? Doesn’t he know I’d be worried? Why hasn’t he run away?_

Gakuto’s younger brother Nori talked to Shishido. He went along and stayed in the car with his mom. To the airport. His dad took Gakuto, no luggage, just a backpack. “They wouldn’t tell Nori anything.”

Yuushi didn’t speak after that. Shishido didn’t ask him any questions, and he was normally not one to hold back, so Yuushi must have been pretty visibly distressed. He understood that he should leave and patted Yuushi on the back. “It’s Gakuto. He’s stubborn as hell, he’ll figure out how to contact you. Us. Someone. You should probably… Sleep, or, y’know, eat.“ 

Yuushi slept. Not very well.

Shishido of all people being understanding made Yuushi feel okay for being an asshole. Surely other people would also understand that he didn’t want to talk right now, about anything, not school or girls or fucking tennis. 

He assumed or hoped people would let it slide. And in his apathy he never stopped expecting that. They could just deal with it.

Years passed, he graduated middle school and high school and life went on, even if he changed. Growing up is supposed to change people, no big deal. Even if it wasn’t necessarily the growing up part that did the changing. It never really was, probably. It’s just what people say. His tragedy was barely on the scale in the grand scheme of worldly horrors. No matter how Yuushi experienced it, it was a blip among true suffering. 

Weird how much damage it did.

It was not the first time since Gakuto came back that Yuushi reflected on what happened, but repetition is powerful.

_Face it. _The whole thing was terribly romantic– no, really, _terribly–_ tragically and very. Before their first kiss could even end they were immediately separated, violently ripped apart by forces beyond them and then further by the great unknown. A beautiful, heart wrenching tale that made Yuushi despise every story he’d ever consumed about star-crossed lovers. He had been cruelly deceived. _Fuck romantic tragedy_. 

Yuushi’s appreciation for romance regrew over time, but he was stained a cynic. Gakuto came back and the obvious signs of fate and romance and _the story continues_ stood before Yuushi, glaring. He just glared right back.

Being constantly told you’re a genius is terrible because you start believing it, and there lies danger. It gives you such false confidence that you refuse to consider how fucking _stupid_ any human, _including you,_ can be.

Yuushi looked at his phone and felt annoyed, not that he could pinpoint why exactly. He thought about beach balls and how blatantly horny Gakuto was that morning and jaw kisses and his knees on the couch, next to his head. Yuushi looked at his phone one last time before turning it off. He had schoolwork to do.


	18. Games

Kirihara got the update on his way to the apartment, Hiyoshi’s apartment. His active imagination was a welcome distraction. It helped that he was standing in the joint of the train, being extra rustled around.

When he first got Mukahi’s invitation, he sprang up, forgetting his game was starting. It screwed up his score bonus, but he didn’t even care.

It was perfect, an opportunity to apologize to Hiyoshi. Kirihara hated apologizing, who didn’t, but shit if anyone deserved it… He was _desperate _to apologize but also scared. Not _scared,_ not the right word, Kirihara wasn't a little bitch. Most of all, he didn’t want Hiyoshi to hate him. Anyone but Hiyoshi. 

Mukahi inviting him over was a miracle chance.

Until he found out Hiyoshi wasn’t home. That sucked. But maybe he would come home! Or Kirihara could get his number at least from Mukahi, or... Information. In any case, this was a sign from the universe.

Plus, he was playing video games anyway, might as well play there? Mukahi seemed like he would have good games, he seemed like a fun person. Even if they only really knew each other in a hookup way.

But now Kirihara stood in the train, occupied by memories from his last visit, finding it was nice to have something to recall that wasn’t with an ex or annoying people he hated, or worse, a senpai. He ignored the memories of Hiyoshi trying to mix themselves in. 

If he couldn’t get to see Hiyoshi, at least this (and video games) would be worth making the trip.

= = =

“Shit. Shit!” Mukahi looked at his phone and put the controller down after checking his phone. “Fuck, Kirihara I gotta go. I lost track of time. I have this Russian study group, which I set up and totally forgot about.” He rubbed his forehead and laughed at himself. “It’s been a weird two days.”

“Huh? Oh, it’s cool...”

Mukahi paused and looked at him, thinking.

“You can stay, if you want. Hiyoshi will be home from work later. We don't have any food, though.

“Eh, that doesn’t matter. Is it cool if I just… Keep playing then?”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry about this. Fuckin’ Russians.” Mukahi vanished into his room.

Y_ES YES YES YES YES YES, score. _Kirihara grinned as he resumed the game solo. He was really going to see Hiyoshi again. He had a chance. 

= = =

Hiyoshi Wakashi is an adult.

This is what he tells himself as he sits in his room, on the floor, where he went to hide from the messy-haired boy in his apartment. His roommate had very neat hair. So did Hiyoshi. This intruder? He did not. This was a neat hair household, he did not belong.

He thought maybe Kirihara wouldn't see him, since he saw Kirihara first. Hiyoshi figured Gakuto must be in the bathroom.

So he sat in his room until steps neared his door and he was knocked at.

“...Hiyoshi? Hey, it's… Akaya.”

“I’m busy.” Hiyoshi physically cringed at the lie. “Where's Mukahi-san?”

“He had to leave for some Russian thing. Are you… Hiding?”

_Shit. _“No,” Hiyoshi responded tersely. “I said I’m busy.”

“Oh… Okay. I’ll wait.”

_What the hell? Or just get out! _“Wait for what–?” he stopped himself, he didn't want to add ‘Kirihara’. It made him too real, made it too real that he was out there.

“‘Til you’re not busy.”

“You might as well leave.” Hiyoshi crumpled on the floor and swallowed a brick. Why was this happening? Why was this happening again?

“I need to ap... I need to say stuff. But like, out here. Or in there.”

The thought of Kirihara Akaya coming into his room spit an arrow into Hiyoshi's heart, knocking the breath out of him. He felt panicky.

He wanted to say he was busy, to go home, but he didn't think Kirihara would listen. So he lay on his pillow and tried to ignore his ex-.... Whatever, crush, something, Hiyoshi didn't know. All he knew was that Kirihara meant a world of hurt every time he showed up in Hiyoshi's life.

Hiyoshi wished he could lie down and be able to nap, but Kirihara Akaya batshit crazy tennis cruel hot heartbreaker of sorts, if you can even call him that, was sitting outside his door. And Hiyoshi was too fearful to say, _“What do you want?”_ because he didn't want to know what Kirihara wanted. Every muscle was tense, it felt like he wasn’t supposed to be lying down and that it would be wrong to get too comfortable.

“Hiyoshi…. I'm so sorry. I lost your number again. I got home and the contact didn't save.” _Again. _

Hiyoshi didn't remind him that last time, he didn't even try to get it.

_You're the reason I can't kiss people._

“I know I'm an idiot but… I wanna be friends–”

“Like you and Mukahi-san are friends?” _SHIT why did I say that out loud?!_

“Hiyoshi… I wanted to see you.”

Hiyoshi couldn't stop himself. “So you fucked my roommate?”

“What? I can't really hear you. Please–”

“SO YOU SLEPT WITH MY ROOMMATE?” He said clearly, annunciating, sitting up to be better heard.

It was a few seconds before Kirihara spoke again.

“Kinda?”

Hiyoshi hated Kirihara so much in that instant. He wanted to open the door, shoving Kirihara back with it, and kick the bastard in the face. That’s how Hiyoshi felt, anyway. Kicked in the face.

He wanted a comeback but was struck by what an idiot Kirihara was.   
He opened his mouth, and closed it again when he found he lacked a response. What he could even say to that? _Oh, okay? _Hiyoshi was partly mad that Kirihara didn’t even lie. Then again, that was the problem in the first place. The honesty. It was part of his _charm._

_‘Charm’ my ass. Fuck you._

“Get out.” He made his voice stern.

“No.”

“Get out!”

“Make me!”

Hiyoshi felt defeated. They both knew he wouldn't go out there and make Kirihara leave. 

He sat back on the floor and buried his face in his palms. His desperation seeped into his voice. “Why are you doing this? Why can't you just leave me alone? What do you want from me?”

It was quiet from the other side of the door. Hiyoshi hoped he at least got an answer.

Finally he heard mumbling. He slid closer to the door. “I can’t even hear you.”

“I miss you.”

_Fuck._ Hiyoshi leaned his head against the door in frustration, mostly at how weak he was to be affected by any of this asshole’s words. So what if he missed him too?

“I don't deserve another chance,” Kirihara continued softly, so strange, Kirihara Akaya speaking softly. “I know that. But I can’t not try. I can't leave you alone or give up. I miss hanging out with you. You're cool to talk to...”

Something inside screamed to brush his fingers across Kirihara’s, which were sticking out from under the door, so Hiyoshi balled his hands into fists, grasping for self control, for that famous discipline he's honed his whole life. 

“Do you regret it? At camp?” Kirihara sounded so young asking all quiet and insecure, so fucking innocent, and Hiyoshi tried and failed miserably not to feel like an asshole.

“Regret what.” He said it, but it didn't sound like a question.

“The first time. When I stole your glasses.”

Hiyoshi swallowed hard. He wasn't prepared to answer a question like that. “I don't know what you're talking about.” 

“Hiyoshi–”

“No, okay?” he snapped. “No, I don't regret it. You're the one who didn't want me in your life. You're the one who should be answering that.” He huffed sourly, disbelief on the backburner. Later, he couldn’t fathom how he spoke about this out loud.

“What? Of course not, I don't regret it at all! And that's not true, I do! I always did want you. In my life.”

Hiyoshi uttered a sick laugh, showing more of a reaction than he wanted to. Not that it mattered, he was already pathetically hiding in his room.   
“Obviously not enough. Go home, Kirihara.”

“Not until you let me say sorry.” Kirihara knocked his head back against the door.

“You apologized. You can go.”

“You don't believe me!” Kirihara was so _stubborn_, like he had any right to sound so indignant. Like Hiyoshi had any reason to believe him.

= = =

At the time, Hiyoshi thought losing his mind and doing something as thoughtless, idiotic, _insane_ as kissing Kirihara Akaya that day– was the worst decision of his life. 

After he did it, he stood up. Maybe he meant to say _That was an accident,_ which was already a damn stupid thing to say, but all that came out as he put his glasses in his bag and walked out of their room was a mumbled,

“Accident.”

Only barely ready, he skirted through the hall begging gods not to be stopped by a nosy senpai. He invested every ounce of his physical being into tennis that day, trying to escape the anxiety of his impending doom. He wasn't sure what would happen– if Kirihara would tell someone and Sanada would slap him, or if everyone would laugh at him. He wasn't ready. He really fucked up.

Later, he had to face him.

“I’m sorry okay. If you're mad, you can hit me. Just. Get it over with and we can pretend it never happened.” Hiyoshi was not about to look at Kirihara, how could he? He just stood there in front of his bed where the devil sat, and waited for it.

Nothing happened.

“I don’t wanna hit you, Hiyoshi.” 

Hiyoshi opened his eyes. “Fine. Then just forget it.”

Finally, he made himself look, only to find Kirihara staring at him, to find him looking sad. It made Hiyoshi a little sick. He didn’t want his pity, but it was too late to say anything about it, he would just leave–

“Can we just hang out? Like normal?”

“Of course.”   
_Dammit!_ Hiyoshi spoke without thinking, agreed without giving his mouth permission, he betrayed himself. He sat on Kirihara's bed, keeping a safe distance that still allowed them to watch a fighting compilation on Youtube they found the day before.

“Can you do that?” Kirihara kept asking.

“Probably.”

“Hehe, that means no.” 

Hiyoshi punched him in the arm and Kirihara snickered, not taking eyes off the screen. 

“Wanna bet?” Hiyoshi grumbled but Kirihara shook his head.   
“I believe you.” He spared Hiyoshi a quick side glance before they both paid attention to the video. Kirihara had vocal reactions to different people hitting the mat, and Hiyoshi was in his element watching something he was so familiar with.

Hiyoshi’s hand twitched between them, because Kirihara touched it. And he picked it up, and held it, and watched the video, as if Hiyoshi had no reason to now be freaking out.

Hiyoshi was rigid. He dared not move his hand a millimeter, what the _hell _was Kirihara thinking? Was this more pity? Did the idiot really think that would help?

Or worse, was he messing with him? The thought chilled his blood, and Hiyoshi yanked his hand away.

Kirihara grabbed it back and hissed, “What are you doing?”

Hiyoshi let out an incredulous laugh, raising the room’s volume and countered, “What are _you_ doing?”

“What does it look like?” 

Hiyoshi tried to pull his hand away but Kirihara squeezed it harder. 

“Stop it! I thought you said you wanted to hang out like normal?!” 

Kirihara made a face and demanded, “What, so you can kiss me but I can't hold your hand?!”

Hiyoshi knew he was loud but Kirihara was yelling at him too.

“I told you to FORGET IT!” He glared.

“I DON’T WANT TO!”

The two fell silent, and it took a second before they stopped fighting over his hand. The words ricocheted through Hiyoshi’s skull until they settled into understanding. He felt every one of his muscles soften, except for his violently beating heart.

“Fine!” he huffed in a weak defensive voice, and turned back to the video, utterly defeated by the boy sitting next to him. They sat against the wall on Kirihara’s bottom bunk, holding hands, and watched martial artists sweep the leg.

= = =

That’s how it all began. They were only second years in middle school.

Did Hiyoshi regret it? Staying up talking until their roommates complained, teasing each other mercilessly, sneaking out early in the morning to get first breakfast? Bickering seriously, cruelly, until they couldn’t take it and started laughing? Stealing kisses by the vending machines, behind trees between training? 

Absolutely not. It was a slice of pure, idiotic happiness. Hearing Atobe’s voice from down the hall no longer caught any special notice or care–no flutters, not anymore. There was only Kirihara, whose presence became a drug.

= = =

_“Call me Akaya.”_

“I can't let my senpai find out, they'll never leave us alone.”

“But we're still friends, and my friends call me that.” 

Kirihara played with their tangled fingers. His puppy dog eyes could send Hiyoshi jumping off a cliff, if they asked. 

_“Akaya,” _Hiyoshi whispered once against his lips, the sound sending flutters to his heart, and it was enough for Kirihara, who kissed him with a devilish smile.

= = =

_We were kids. It was innocent. _The thing is, Hiyoshi knew. Even back then, he knew it was too good to be true. He was _too _happy, it couldn’t last. 

But that couldn't have prepared him for how he felt after Kirihara left to play on Japan's U-17 team, and never contacted him again.

Totally, _utterly_ heartbroken. Shamefully. What an idiot, to let his feelings develop so carelessly. Clearly to Kirihara it was just for fun, he wasn't actually serious about Hiyoshi. He wasn't sure what hurt worse: his pride, for being such a fucking fool, or the radio silence, the stupid empty ache of missing him. He knew he couldn’t tell anyone, it was far too embarrassing. It almost hurt less to go back to liking Atobe, after the heartbreak gave him room to. Even seeing him with Oshitari wasn’t as bad, because at least then he didn’t have to take it personally.

And despite all that, Hiyoshi still gave him a second chance. And a third. But a fourth?

= = =

“This isn’t a game, Kirihara. I know how you play tennis, but even you aren’t fucked up enough to keep doing this. I have a life. You can’t just drop in whenever you’re bored.” 

Something in him broke. Hiyoshi was feeling very talkative now, with his door between them.

“I know it’s not a game! It’s not a game! I lost your number! The contact info didn’t save!”

“Maybe you should have given me your number, or you could have come to find me, you know, at least _try._”

Kirihara didn’t seem to have a response to that. There was no way that this conversation would have been possible face-to-face. 

Kirihara finally spoke, in a different voice, not the sad and cute and innocent one, but the other. The one he used starting a tennis match, the one for when they used to be mean to each other. The hot one.

“For fuck’s sake. You could have found me too, Hiyoshi.”

“W-” _WHAT? It’s not the same. It’s not the same at all! I thought you didn’t want to see me! _“Get out of my apartment. You need to leave.”

“You said you would! Maybe if, if your pride wasn’t such an issue–”

“I said GET OUT!” Hiyoshi screamed, he didn’t care if he alarmed neighbors, he couldn’t take it anymore. Kirihara implying that he was at fault was the last straw.

Finally he heard Kirihara stand up. “I’m leaving my number on the counter.” 

Hiyoshi closed his eyes and listened for him to leave. He heard the door crack and a quiet, “Seeya, Hiyoshi.” It shut, and Kirihara was gone again.

When Hiyoshi eventually emerged from his room, his head was heavy and he felt dehydrated. He saw the sticky note with Kirihara’s shitty handwriting, a scrawled out number, out on the counter. He had to look away. 

“AAUGHH!” he yelled, kicked a chair over hard. “_Fuck,” _he hissed as he balled up the paper in his fist and closed his eyes before taking a deep breath and opening the fridge.

Gakuto drank all the beer.


	19. Better Off

He was going to tell Gakuto.

That his ex blocked his number. That it was time to give up, and that it was okay. Because Yuushi had feelings for someone else.

Gakuto opened the door after a minute. He was in a green t-shirt and boxers. His hair was rumpled and he combed it back with his fingers, the wine red complemented the green beautifully. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, offering Yuushi a sleepy grin and a very quiet, “Come on in.” _Good god._ Just woke up and the sight of him had Yuushi’s heart flipping before he even stepped inside.

“Sorry, trying to be quiet. Hiyoshi is sleeping in for the first time in forever and I don't want to wake him up,” he noted softly as he stepped over to the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“I’m fine.” So kind of Gakuto. As much as he complained about him, as much as he made fun of Hiyoshi, he was really so considerate. It made Yuushi like him even more.

“So, what's up? You said there was a new development.” Gakuto expertly folded his legs on the couch with a mug in both hands and looked at Yuushi very seriously. Yuushi sat down and sighed.

“Rusa blocked my number.” 

Genuine appall erupted on Gakuto’s face, compensating for the fact he had to react quietly.

_“What the fuck?_ That doesn't make any fucking sense!”

It happened just as Yuushi opened his mouth to explain why it was okay– Gakuto's eyes diverted to something behind Yuushi, interrupting. He turned around to see as he heard a door creak open.

Hiyoshi, disheveled, pillow indentations on his face, wearing nothing but his underwear, slowly emerged from Gakuto’s room.

Gakuto’s voice was suddenly deeper and casual, 

“Oh. Hey.”

Hiyoshi waved a hand lazily without looking over as he went into his own room. A few seconds later he came back out.

“Sorry,” Gakuto continued, “Didn't mean to wake you.” 

“It's fine,” Hiyoshi responded in a gravelly voice and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Yuushi frozen solid, staring at the closed door.

His heart crumpled in on itself like ashes, into cold, grey dust.

He didn't move until Gakuto’s voice changed back to normal, it burned when he tapped Yuushi on the knee. 

“Sorry. Continue!”

Yuushi turned to him and found he couldn't open his mouth to speak. Which wasn't so bad, considering he no longer had anything to say.

Gakuto seemed to read his silence and gave him a look. Back to his hushed tone he challenged, _“What?”_

Yuushi blinked. 

Gakuto rolled his eyes. “Shut up. Seriously, it's nothing. I told you.”

If Yuushi had to guess, there was about an 80% chance Gakuto was oblivious, and a 20% chance that he was still in some form of denial. _I can't believe I was admiring him for caring about his roommate’s sleeping habits. _It’s a little different when you're _sharing a bed._

“Anyway, what are you going to do!?” 

“I don't know. That's why I'm here,” Yuushi lied flawlessly.

“Okay, well first, text Kenya. Here.”

Gakuto reached out for Yuushi's phone and Yuushi swallowed away his inability to look at that hand, or at those ready-to-problem-solve eyes.

_What the hell am I doing? _Gakuto explicitly told Yuushi he wasn't the kind of friend he could kiss. Sure, he also said that it would be easy to start liking him again, but he was incredibly drunk when he said that. 

Here he was now, intent and prepared without hesitation to help Yuushi win Rusa back. 

He realized something while surveying Gakuto in his pajamas as he searched for Kenya’s contact, remembering his cute yawn as he welcomed Yuushi inside…

Yuushi woke him up. Gakuto said they had to be quiet because he _got up and left Hiyoshi in bed._ Gakuto denied they were involved, but now Yuushi was thinking about how they were roommates in the first place. Yuushi didn't even know Gakuto was back for two entire months, and then he only learned by coincidence. Meanwhile Gakuto and Hiyoshi were _living together, _sleeping together–Gakuto had a life without Yuushi. He was just being a good friend. 

And when he was drunk, he worried about Yuushi fucking it all up again. 

_Shit. _Yuushi really did miss Rusa. She was his best friend, before all this. She’d know what to do. Too bad he couldn't consult her on the subject, or even talk to her now.

So he sat on the couch watching his best friend try and get information about his other best friend… Both of whom he loved.

And Yuushi felt so alone.


	20. Ghostbusters

Gakuto’s first Russian study group meetup had a good turnout of 6 students. But even making new friends and organizing next week’s meeting, speaking an entirely different language, _and_ getting laid by someone else... Wasn't enough to distract his mind from the alluring memories of one Oshitari Yuushi.

He went home and lay on his apartment floor. Only 24 hours ago, he was lying on the same floor with his dear friend.

“Hiyoshiiii. He’s sooo hot,” he whined. 

Hiyoshi stepped over him and had nothing to say. Gakuto took this as permission to continue talking about it and rolled onto his side.

“He is, right? It’s not just me. Everyone thinks so. This wouldn’t be so hard if he wasn’t so fucking hot. I don’t like him or anything, I’m just so _distracted.”_

“Right.” The disbelief dripped from Hiyoshi’s voice as he stepped over Gakuto again on his way to the couch.

Gakuto rolled to face the other way. “Hiyooooshiiiiiiiiii.”

Hiyoshi turned the tv on and didn’t look over. “Just pretend I said whatever you want me to say.” He channel-surfed with focus. He was quieter, less sassy than usual.

“What’s up with you?” Gakuto sat up.  
  
Hiyoshi did not react, but sure pressed that channel button, over and over, his attention glued to the tv. 

“What’s the deal with you and Kirihara, by the way?” Gakuto hopped up and plopped down next to him on the couch, curious. “He acted like he wanted to see you.”

Hiyoshi let out a dry ‘hah.’ “Right, I’m sure that’s what he was thinking when he accepted your _‘invite.’”_

Gakuto felt kind of guilty with what he was about to admit. “Okay, but... I didn’t exactly invite him over for that.”  
  
Hiyoshi _looked at him!_ He finally looked at Gakuto, and his face wasn’t grumpy as expected. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just invited him over to play video games. And then once he was on his way I told him it was a–that it was for... other stuff.”

Hiyoshi scoffed. “Classy.” 

“Well, we did play video games.”

“Good for you,” Hiyoshi said softly, no bite. He steadied his gaze on the tv once more. 

Something was up. Gakuto looked closer, but Hiyoshi swatted him away. It was too late. Gakuto could smell it on him.

“Are you…? You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Gakuto mimicked him in tone. He hid it pretty well, but Hiyoshi smelled like booze, and now that Gakuto knew, he could tell by how steady Hiyoshi wasn't as he got up and grabbed water from the fridge.

“Huh. I thought I drank all the beer…”

Hiyoshi chuckled softly and mumbled something, smirking into his glass of water.

Realization set in and Gakuto’s jaw fell. Hiyoshi didn’t smell like just _any_ booze.

“YOU DRANK MY VODKA!” he laughed. “I can’t believe it! Shit, you _are_ drunk!” 

Hiyoshi grumbled something unintelligible and gave him the finger. Gakuto didn’t get the chance to tease him much more before Hiyoshi went into his room and slammed the door, shutting him out. Gakuto wondered what spurred this sudden interest in his vodka.

Special-vodka-drunk Hiyoshi was a different creature. For example, the mysterious alcohol seemed to have a similar effect on Hiyoshi as it did on Gakuto, because at 11 pm, when he was getting ready to play games on his phone and sleep, the door to his room opened. Hiyoshi stood there in his doorway, looking down at his bed, at Gakuto. Shirtless. Saying nothing.

“Hey.” Gakuto propped himself up on his arm and put his phone down. Hiyoshi cleared his throat, awkward, and looked at his feet before he opened his mouth.

In the end he didn't speak. He walked over to Gakuto’s bed and Gakuto watched him every step of the way.

It was easy to let Hiyoshi fall into his bed; to start kissing, crashing mouths in such a novel way for them that it bothered Gakuto a little, but he enjoyed it too much to say anything the first time.

But when he came home to Hiyoshi trying to jump him a few days later, kissing him wasn't as fun. He tasted like beer. 

“I thought you didn't kiss,” Gakuto pulled back to say. 

Hiyoshi paused. Then he nodded with a sad little smile. “You're right. I don't.” 

= = =

Hiyoshi needed to forget. It was haunting him. _He_ was haunting him. Again.

It was the second morning he woke up in Gakuto’s bed. Gakuto was curled on his side facing the wall, snoring little breaths under his hair splayed out on the pillow. Hiyoshi tried to extract himself without waking him, but his legs were tangled in the sheets.

”M-meh? Mmuh.” Gakuto stirred in his sleep, mumbling. 

Hiyoshi watched him for a few seconds. Not for the first time, Gakuto shifted and made a little face before softly whispering a name in his sleep. It wasn't Hiyoshi’s.

Both of them used each other to cope, he knew. But at least Gakuto was haunted by someone he could trust.

= = =

Gakuto couldn't remember what he used to think about before falling asleep, back before chemistry class. Before that vodka night, even.

Because surely it wasn't Yuushi. But for the life of him, he just couldn't remember. Schoolwork? Friends? Maybe his family? Maybe memories? TV? These were all just guesses. 

Crushes were weird. So creepy. Imagine someone lying in bed just thinking about you, and all sorts of things about you, before falling asleep every single night. Like how Yuushi brushed his bangs out of his vision when he was working on math, tapping his pencil, biting his lip. When his genius was so challenged, he actually had to think hard every once in awhile. He knew Yuushi loved it, that challenge. 

Gakuto thought about times they sat in the library, quietly working. He would watch Yuushi’s focused face, and Yuushi would catch him. It happened more than once. He would look up and his expression would change - he smiled, and unless Gakuto spoke he said nothing and simply returned to his work. 

Oh, and he was such a charming motherfucker about it. Because sometimes he smiled as if the math had been interrupting Gakuto, instead of Gakuto’s staring interrupting the math. Something about the way the smile crept onto his face when they met eyes… it made Gakuto sick. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It was these scenes that played in Gakuto's head before falling asleep, and there was nothing he could do about it. And then, in the morning, as soon as he remembered Yuushi, the bastard stuck around on his mind for the rest of the day.

Gakuto wondered what Yuushi thought about before going to sleep. He probably read romance books and fell asleep thinking about the plot. Or his girlfriend. And Gakuto too, sometimes, for sure, right? They were best friends, after all.

He seemed to like it when Gakuto was kissing him on the jaw. _Does he ever think about that?_

Even though it had been a whole week since _that _happened, his dinner at the Oshitari home that week was a disaster. 

A while back, their first dinner reunited was lovely. He was welcomed back into the family with open arms. Specifically, a quiet tight hug from Yuushi’s mother and a loud squishy one from Erina. “You look amazing!” She told him. It was funny, because then, Gakuto caught Yuushi staring at him. Or maybe that was just his imagination, because Yuushi instantly turned away. But that was before vodka night. Before Gakuto really looked for that type of thing. Now Yuushi was no more than friendly, of course, like Gakuto said they should be. And it sucked.

Now, in the quiet moments of the actual dinner, Gakuto spent the entire time cursing himself because he could not _stop _staring at Yuushi, and, worse, _wouldn't _stop.

What the fuck had he done?

All it took was a single detecting glance from Oshitari Erina for Gakuto to realize just how transparent he was. _Yes. I’m staring at your brother. Fuck._  
  
Gakuto _remembered_. What it felt like, what having this crush felt like. And boy, it hit him like a scud serve. Gakuto was messed. Up. Yuushi’s presence at the table next to him made his head feel heavy. He kept getting distracted, trapped by simple things… Like watching the way his arm turned to pick up a napkin, admiring the way his best friend’s hands moved. It was all so familiar. It was _Yuushi - _he knew what Yuushi looked like, how he was. But watching this reminded Gakuto of sitting next to him after a tennis match, facing ahead, looking at whatever of Yuushi he could see from where he sat beside him. It was his secret, because he knew he could get away with it. Gakuto would greedily watch him grip his racket, roll his wrists; stretch his arms. And it was one of those times, where they were sweaty and quiet and restful, so familiar in their comfortable silence that Gakuto noticed something. He knew what Yuushi smelled like. 

  
Back then. He knew back then.

Now he was reminded of what tortured him in middle school. Each time he made Yuushi laugh lit him up inside, and now it seemed so _natural._ The glitter he felt up his chest when Yuushi said _“Gakuto,”_ but couldn't stop himself from laughing at whatever stupid statement Gakuto had offered. When he made Yuushi laugh so much that he didn't have a comeback - at least not easily, not at first. It wasn't an easy thing to do, but it was an amazing thing to witness. 

He always seemed to have a really, really hot laugh. He had many laughs, actually, Gakuto learned from studying. The laugh that was like a smirk, a ‘heheh.’ But it wasn't like Hiyoshi, or Gakuto, admittedly, snickering like gremlins. Of course not, Yuushi was too cool. The small Yuushi laugh was cool and sexy, just like every other sound that left his mouth.

Every sound except his real laugh. It wasn't cool, it was _real_. Human. It was cuter than it was sexy. Yuushi rarely laughed like that, so it was always a different side of him to see. His real laugh, the one he couldn’t stifle, or forgot to… It was _beautiful. _The sound, where even if his own eyes were closed Gakuto knew - he could _hear_ that Yuushi was smiling.

_Fuck. _That mouth was dangerous when they were 15, and it only grew deadlier in his absence. Yuushi’s _voice._ Bragging about Gakuto at dinner, to make it worse. Even just speaking his name. Sometimes Gakuto had to take a second, close his eyes and take a deep breath as quickly as he could, waiting for that burning feeling swimming around his body and making him dizzy to settle down. The sound of Yuushi’s voice was a dangerous drug. If Gakuto could drive, which he couldn’t, he definitely wouldn’t be able to drive like this. Under the influence.

He desperately needed to readapt to Yuushi's presence. The flirty bastard was driving him mad. 

= = =

Gakuto was lucky to have Hiyoshi to play with whenever he thought too hard. A great distraction. Although thoughts of Yuushi occasionally slipped in, he usually stayed pretty focused.

Hiyoshi seemed needier too since they celebrated his birthday at the beginning of December. Something happened to Gakuto’s roommate because now crashing in the same bed didn't seem to freak him out, and he seemed perfectly happy being the one getting fucked. 

Which was the plan all along, but… Gakuto kind of wanted to get railed–for that soreness to follow him the next day so that maybe, when he saw Yuushi, he wouldn't want him so _fucking_ bad. Like, then and there. Because sometimes he could close his eyes and listen to Yuushi ramble on about something boring and just soak it all up– His voice, the sound of him sighing, teasing, teasing mercilessly. And maybe if his roommate fucked him hard enough, he would finally be able to focus during Chemistry.

= = =

Gakuto had to confiscate his vodka the second time he caught Hiyoshi with it. There was a limited supply! _Drink fucking beer, Hiyoshi._ Then, after awhile, it seemed like every night even without kissing that Hiyoshi's breath smelled like beer. When Gakuto pointed it out, he started brushing his teeth before “bed.”

But he was still drunk.

One morning Gakuto woke up with an arm draped over him, soft hair against his shoulder. Gakuto carefully peeled himself out from under his roommate to go to the bathroom, and when he returned Hiyoshi had turned over to face the wall, breathing softly. Their apartment was freezing, and Hiyoshi complained about it constantly, but his bare chest and arms stuck out from under the blanket so Gakuto figured he must have still been asleep. He got back in his bed and covered them up, snuggling his back up against Hiyoshi’s before falling asleep again.

It was bizarre. The thing was, Hiyoshi _hated _cuddling. Usually, as soon as he had the energy, he shoved Gakuto away. 

Gakuto didn’t really mind Hiyoshi falling asleep wrapped around him, breathing hot sleep breaths into his neck. It was cozy. 

But… it was also… Hiyoshi.

He snuggled against him anyway. Occasionally wished it was someone else. 

For the first few days of the cuddling deal, he wondered if Hiyoshi was starting to like him. But if that was the case, he wouldn’t be drinking so much first, right? Besides, they didn’t talk. He never wanted to talk. Even when Gakuto kept pushing, hey, something is up with you, Hiyoshi would either grunt and hide in his room or interrupt him with hands sliding up his shirt and ‘mind your own business’ whispered roughly, and Gakuto...

Well, Gakuto let him. Sure, it was kind of weird, but he also liked the comfort of a warm body when he was so fucking jealous of some girl he barely knew and pretending Yuushi was just his buddy ol’ pal and that–

Hiyoshi was supposed to be a distraction from that! But he was becoming a different sort of distraction– the worrying kind.

After a week or two, Gakuto started noticing that Hiyoshi wasn’t leaving the apartment, which he almost always did, to go to the dojo and work with some other sensei, in the morning before Gakuto went to class. And he was home too often–Hiyoshi definitely wasn’t training every day like he was supposed to. He was constantly rushing out the door and a few times he was even late to teach his classes, which was a _very_ un-Hiyoshi thing to do–he was a punctual motherfucker, and usually a dick about it. 

Then back to the fact he got quietly drunk every night. Gakuto was pretty sure their recycling had tripled. Why the fuck was he drinking so much? Was he drinking… All day? Or just in the evening? Of all the people Gakuto knew, he didn’t expect that from Hiyoshi. 

Finally, one night, Hiyoshi didn’t come to bed. Gakuto waited and finally went to sleep without him, assuming he just wasn’t in the mood. He woke up at 3 am to sounds that reminded him of high school.

The door to the toilet was ajar, light bright and blinding. Hiyoshi was sitting on the floor, arms draped over the toilet seat. He looked up at Gakuto in the doorway for only a second before he was sick again, back on his knees. Gakuto looked away in mild disgust until Hiyoshi collapsed against the wall.

“Was it the vodka?”

Hiyoshi wiped his mouth on his arm and looked up at him with red, wet puffy eyes. He nodded.

This had to stop.

“You still drunk?”

Hiyoshi nodded his head like it was about to fall off the hinge, all the confirmation needed.

“God, Hiyoshi, you're a fucking mess. Have you had any water?”

“Y-Yeah.” Hiyoshi’s voice was rocky, like that of a million-year-old heavy smoker. Speaking sounded like it hurt. “Made it worse.”

Gakuto sighed and went to get his roommate a glass of apple juice, kept for these occasions.

Hiyoshi took the glass with a shaky hand and a hesitant look. Pathetic.

“Small sips, Wakashi.” Hiyoshi didn't even glare at him. He took a few sips and groaned, closing his eyes and lying back against the wall. 

Gakuto sighed and sat down next to the door. “Are you ever going to tell me what the fuck is going on with you? What, you turn 18 and decide to become an alcoholic? You've been like this for weeks, what the hell happened?”

= = =

A good question, one Hiyoshi had time to ponder as he sat on the tile floor in ill health. How did he get here?

To this point.

The point where the guy he was usually sleeping with was mothering him and currently on the phone with his dad, covering for him and canceling the class he was in no shape to teach. He provided some bullshit about bad discount sushi and a stomach flu, and he even took the blame.

_Guy I’m sleeping with._ That wasn’t fair to Gakuto. He was more than a… fuckbuddy, or whatever. After all, he had been asking Hiyoshi what was wrong for weeks.

He was his best friend. His roommate, and a damn good one. 

Of course, that didn't mean Hiyoshi could tell him what was happening. There was no way he'd understand. He might be a good friend, but Gakuto would still laugh at him. 

But Hiyoshi was vomiting, and drunk, and apparently word-vomiting was part of that. So when Gakuto asked what was wrong again, finally, Hiyoshi answered.

“I’m having… N–Nightmares.”

Gakuto blinked, and after a few seconds he... laughed, as expected. _“You!? _What could possibly give _you_ nightmares?” 

He tossed his head back to laugh some more. “So you finally watched too many horror movies, and now you’re drinking to cope? You’re kidding, right?”

Hiyoshi tried to glare but it hurt to open his eyes. “Not that kind. The bad kind. About stuff that happened. While you were gone.” Each sentence felt like a workout. Hiyoshi’s head was swimming. Before this conversation, he tried to lie down and sleep, but he got too dizzy. He managed to stumble out of his room and into the bathroom just in time.

It was actually on his birthday that he had the first one.

= = =

Hiyoshi was at Rikkai. Funny, it looked just like Hyotei. But it was definitely Rikkai because Rikkai’s team was there. Hiyoshi had just got there, after a long journey he didn’t remember for some reason. 

He was trying to find _him_, walking to the tennis courts, skin prickling. He was both scared and incredibly excited.

_There he is_. Hiyoshi’s stomach whirled with nervousness, his heart beat fast just looking at the second year devil, laughing and chatting with his third year teammates.

“Akaya!” Hiyoshi called out awkwardly, walking toward them. They all turned and stared.

It wasn’t a good stare. Suddenly Hiyoshi knew it was a very grave mistake to call him by his given name.

“Kirihara.” He approached slowly, apprehensive. Some of the third years whispered to each other laughing. Hiyoshi tried to grin but he probably looked weird, because Kirihara’s face looked even more disturbed as he turned to a senpai, laughed, and turned back to him.

“Who the hell are you?”

“W… what?” Hiyoshi stuttered. 

Kirihara looked away and covered his mouth. His whole team snickered.

“Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met!” He said animatedly, fake, and hiding it badly. Clearly he wouldn’t be laughing if he didn’t know who Hiyoshi was. It made Hiyoshi angry.

“Hiyoshi Wakashi, from Hyotei. We were roommates, we played tennis together. What kind of joke is this?”

Kirihara’s face changed. “Oh yeah. Hiyoshi. I recognize you now! What are you doing here?”

_I’m… I’m here to see you. _Kirihara’s whole team stared at him for an answer. Hiyoshi was absolutely mortified.

“I thought… I thought w–” _We were what? Friends? Dating? _Hiyoshi couldn’t say anything. His silence did not do him any good.

“What, are you stalking me?” They all started laughing, laughing and laughing–

= = =

Hiyoshi opened his eyes. He was sweaty. He was in his bed - in his apartment. He wasn’t in middle school. He wasn’t even in high school anymore. He wasn’t in school at all.

_It was a dream. Just a dream. _Hiyoshi reached over to turn his little lamp on and grabbed his glasses. His hand was shaking. Suddenly his heart was beating really fast and he had trouble breathing. _What the fuck. _He froze, waiting for it to subside. _Stop panicking. Deep breaths._ After several seconds, it stopped.

He went to the bathroom and went back to sleep, only to wake up an hour later from an extension of the same dream, where Hiyoshi discovered that the entire relationship was a delusion - that he was obsessed with Kirihara and hallucinated it all.

He had zero intention of going back to sleep that night. His hands kept shaking and he hated, _hated _that the dream shook him up. He reminded himself that just days ago Kirihara was there outside his bedroom door, groveling for forgiveness. The dream was baseless. 

It was also fucking horrible.

Gakuto came into his room that morning while he was getting ready for work, with a cup of tea for him. “Happy birthday Hiyokko! You’re 18! A fledgling no more. I have a present for you tonight!” A sleepless Hiyoshi half-grinned and thanked him. He almost forgot his own birthday.

That night he and Gakuto watched a cheesy-horror-movie marathon and got drunk. For Hiyoshi’s present, Gakuto went down on him. Then they drunkenly argued over who was responsible for breaking a plate, and then they went to sleep. Hiyoshi woke up the next day in his own bed after a wonderful long, dreamless sleep, feeling refreshed.

When he went to sleep sober the next night, he had another dream. This time, Kirihara wouldn’t look at him or speak to him. It made less sense but it hurt all the same. 

Worse than the bad ones were the good ones. His dreams seemed to remember Kirihara’s eyes very well, when he'd smile and look at Hiyoshi and lean in–

But Hiyoshi always woke up before they could kiss. If he was still half-asleep, he tried to fall back into the dream - his subconscious was hoping to get that kiss. But even if the dream resumed, the moment was always gone.

If he woke up enough to realize what he was hoping for, he was angry and hurt and felt betrayed all over again, but this time by himself.

In one dream they were at a park; birds were chirping. He was lying with his head in Kirihara’s lap, just looking up at him while Kirihara pet his hair. They were talking about a trip they were planning, a romantic getaway to Scotland of all places. It was cheesy as hell and waking up to find reality left Hiyoshi feeling disgusted. His brain was a fucking asshole.

The dreams didn’t stop. Unless he drank. And got laid. 

But that was the thing. His coping mechanisms _worked_. It seemed like the drinking kept him from having the bad ones, at least. And if that wasn’t enough, Gakuto kept him from having the good ones. It was an amazing if not delicate discovery.

He was selfish, really. If Hiyoshi was a good person, he would tell Gakuto that Oshitari was equally pathetic, pining for Gakuto just as much as Gakuto was openly pining for him. Hiyoshi saw the way Oshitari looked at Gakuto when he held the door open and let him walk through. Hiyoshi saw the way he played with Gakuto’s hair while they sat on the couch, and the obvious way Oshitari smiled whenever he made him laugh. 

He also saw the long, steady looks Oshitari gave Hiyoshi. Every time Hiyoshi and his roommate joked about something, he’d find Oshitari looking at him, and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Expressionless bastard. It felt like a glare, though, or judgmental, and Hiyoshi knew that well. It was a lot like the looks he got at tennis practice in high school, when Oshitari caught Hiyoshi staring at Atobe. Except, back then, Oshitari would drag Atobe into a kiss, just to show off. Oh, how the tables had turned! Now Oshitari was the jealous one, but Hiyoshi had nothing to flaunt.

It wasn’t Hiyoshi’s fault they were idiots. But if he told Gakuto, hey, quit worrying about this girl, Oshitari doesn’t give a fuck about her– Well, Gakuto probably wouldn't even believe him, the stubborn dumbass. But if Gakuto did believe him? Hiyoshi’s dreams would come back.

Cuddling with him wasn’t so bad. It was nice, actually. He was small and warm and his breathing was soothing, and he was sort of cute when he was sleeping. Hearing him whisper “Yuushi” was awkward, yes, but it was more of a relief than an annoyance. Getting emotional with Gakuto would be an entire other trainwreck. Their system of using each other was one of the only good things Hiyoshi had going for him. Sex really helped, it tired him out and he fell sound asleep. 

And though the tiredness was part of why, the real reason Hiyoshi stopped going to his own bed was because as soon as he thought about it, he’d get scared. He was afraid to be alone, to wake up from one of those dreams and not be able to breathe properly. He didn’t want to have another stupid fucking dream like the one of Kirihara dying on his way to get Hiyoshi’s phone number.

But here he was today, with mild alcohol poisoning, Gakuto standing over him and demanding answers as the sun rose. _I guess it escalated._

“Dreams about what? Or who?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Gakuto narrowed his eyes and studied him, sitting cross-legged in the bathroom doorway to keep him company. He rested his chin in his hand after dramatically propping his elbow up on his knee.

“What about that time you drank my vodka? You never told me what that was about.”

Hiyoshi wouldn’t say anything, but he knew that with the way he met Gakuto’s eyes, he was answering his question. 

“...It wasn’t Kirihara, right? I’m pretty sure I asked but you didn’t really say anything.”

Hiyoshi closed his eyes. His breathing was getting panicky and he felt dizzy again.

“What’s the deal with you and him? Did he tell you something? Is it about Atobe? Or did Kirihara threaten you? Is it blackmail? Or is there some dark secret past?”

Gakuto didn’t stop with the questions and Hiyoshi’s head swam violently. He got dizzier and dizzier before he finally interrupted Gakuto, biting out,

_“Why don’t you ask him since you’re such great fucking friends?” _

_Oops. _He heard how vicious his voice was, but it wasn’t on purpose. 

Gakuto shut up, at least. He stared at Hiyoshi, frozen, and blinked a few times.

“Okay. I will.” And he got up and left Hiyoshi there, sitting next to the toilet and finally sobering up with the worst headache of his life.

= = =

Gakuto _had _to know what happened. His first instinct was to text Yuushi, but… He didn’t want to talk to Yuushi right now. Who else could he talk to about this? 

Maaaan. _Kiri-fucking-hara. _Gakuto had involved the culprit himself. Time to ask him about Hiyoshi. Besides, it _was_ Gakuto’s business, because… Well, because by involving him, it was Gakuto’s fault. Perfect. Exactly. Even if he wasn’t sure what went down.

> G: what did you do to my roommate?
> 
> K: why??? Did he say something?

_No, he’s quiet and desperately drunk._

> G: no he’s just being weird. Don’t lie I know something happened. Did you...idk what did you do?

Gakuto had nothing. What, did they… Did they like... Sleep together? They knew each other, right? That was the only plausible idea Gakuto came up with, but it didn’t sit right with how Hiyoshi was acting.

> K: I pissed him off. 
> 
> G: how? Why? Arent u friends?
> 
> K: we were. he hates me now 
> 
> G: why???
> 
> K: its a long story u should ask him

_Dammit!_ Even if he pressed harder, he knew Hiyoshi would never in a million years tell Gakuto what happened. He was an awful sharer.

> G: nah u broke him. I need to fix it though hes my friend. Maybe I can help u.... if you still wanna be friends with him

Fingers crossed. Gakuto was dying to know what transpired. The eagerness ran to his fingertips as he waited for a response.

> K: hooking up with u was a really bad idea, thats kinda y hes pissed 

Oh. 

_Ohh. _

_Shit. _

So they had a history? But… A _real_ history? If Hiyoshi was that fucked up over it...

It never occurred to Gakuto! It should have, it just didn’t. Kirihara and Hiyoshi? _Really?_

Hiyoshi didn’t say anything the first time he was over! Gakuto figured he would’ve, if it had been a real problem. Thinking about it now, Gakuto felt like an absolute idiot. Of course Hiyoshi wouldn’t confide such a thing. Gakuto felt horrible. It really _was_ his fault. 

BUT WHAT AN EXCITING DISCOVERY! He wished he could talk to Yuushi about it. It was like an itch. The urge to involve Yuushi was like an addiction. Why was Gakuto so dependent? Again? Already?

> G: Shit. tell me more
> 
> K: like I said its a long story. I cant tell u over the phone. Maybe this weekend but not at ur place. We could go to this arcade its cool they have good food
> 
> K: not a date. U said it so u have to help me 
> 
> G: Duh. its a deal. I have exams so next week?
> 
> K: ok. I have a tennis tournament so maybe after on Sunday. 
> 
> G: yeah that works
> 
> K: Don’t tell him ok??

...What kind of idiot did he think Gakuto was? In any case, they had plans. He had to wait forever, but he basically had an idea to work with… Hiyoshi and Kirihara. Huh. _Interesting._

Gakuto felt like a detective. He wouldn’t even tell Yuushi about it! Yuushi was his best friend, yes, but he didn’t have to know everything all the time. At least, not yet.


	21. The Tragedy of Hiyoshi Wakashi

It was Sunday afternoon and Gakuto was leaving the arcade. He walked with purpose. It was time to face the facts, time to get real.

Gakuto could not handle this on his own. It was not a one man job, not even a two man job- not for just anyone, at least. In fact, only one person he knew could do something about this.

He needed Oshitari Yuushi, plain and simple.

> G: Hey, tuesday after second class you free?
> 
> G: If so we should get lunch and eat it at the park next to campus.
> 
> Y: A picnic?

Gakuto froze in horror. It looked like he was asking Yuushi on a date.

> G: I have something really huge to tell you. Has to be in person, secluded.
> 
> Y: Sure. Can’t believe you’re going to make me wait. No hints?
> 
> G: That would just make it worse.
> 
> Y: Is it bad?
> 
> G: No, no. Not really. Well kind of
> 
> Y: Gakutoooooo
> 
> G: I have so much homework ill see you tuesday !!!!!

Gakuto really needed to be more disciplined about his school work, and taking the weekend off from seeing Yuushi in person would be good for his health, his sanity, his heart. Tuesday was going to be a tough wait for Gakuto, too. He vowed to stay strong. 

= = =

“Aww. Yuushi.” Gakuto turned to his approaching friend and immediately started standing up. “You brought a picnic blanket?”

Yuushi sat down on the grass and dropped his bag of food. “No, Gakuto. This is a blanket-blanket. It’s winter.”

Gakuto sat back down, sheepish. “Whatever. It’s not that cold, plus food is hot. Let’s eat.”

Yuushi dropped his hands to his lap and stared. “Are you serious? You aren’t going to tell me the ‘huge thing’ you have to tell me?”

Gakuto, already stuffing his face, looked at him and paused mid-chew. After a few seconds of thinking he swallowed. “Oh yeah.” He continued eating. This would not be an efficient storytelling process. “It’s about Hiyoshi.”

_Oh. _Yuushi’s body weighed a million pounds, he was almost dizzy. _I have something huge to tell you Yuushi. It's not bad. It's about Hiyoshi. _He began emotionally preparing for the news–

“He has the worst luck with his love life out of anyone we’ve ever met.”

_What?_ Yuushi flipped a switch just in time to seem fine and hoped maybe it wasn’t what he feared.

He chuckled. “Well, it is pretty bad, what with Atobe, then you…” Yuushi’s expression didn't waver a bit.

“Oh yeah, he told me about Atobe. Well he didn’t tell me but I found out. But I don’t count. He never really liked me that much, we talked about it.”

Yuushi perked his eyebrows in disbelief. “Whatever you say.” 

Relief melted him. He hadn't realized his muscles were so tense. Yuushi might not believe it, but Gakuto did, and in seconds these words elevated his mood by a mile. 

“ANYWAY,” Gakuto took a huge bite for suspense, swallowed, clueless to Yuushi’s inner-drama. “None of that holds a candle to what happened with Kirihara.” 

Yuushi knew Gakuto was looking for a reaction, and he got one. He grinned smugly when he saw it and nodded. His hair bounced a little with his nod, it was distracting. Yuushi was okay with distractions.

“Well, go on.”

“You’re surprised right? All the way since U-17. We were there, Yuushi. And we didn’t even notice.”

Admittedly, that caught Yuushi off guard. He thought back. “They argued a lot.”

“Exactly! I was thinking about it and I remembered that. They were always fighting about random shit, chasing each other around, Hiyoshi always seemed pissed off. I never would have expected it. Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“Not really.” 

Gakuto pouted at the disagreement, Yuushi loved when he did that.

“They have a lot in common.” 

Gakuto barked a laugh. “Like WHAT?” He collapsed on his back, having finished his lunch. “Kirihara was more like me than Hiyoshi, but of course, crazier, and violent. Hiyoshi was like… A stick in the mud, but a weird one. A weird stick. A shroomy boring boy.”

“Hiyoshi was definitely the more mature of the two.”

Gakuto whacked Yuushi on the arm. “Of course _you_ would put it that way. But you see my point.” He held up a finger and pointed, for emphasis. Yuushi could tell he was hanging on to every word, waiting for his response. It was fun to play with him, make him wait, speak slowly. Gakuto’s reactions were always amusing, especially since he seldom noticed Yuushi was doing it on purpose.

“They were friends, then they were both captains their third year.”

“Oh yeah, Kirihara was Rikkai’s captain! That’s part of the story.”

“Right, the story of Hiyoshi and Kirihara's cursed affair. When were you going to start that story?”

“Right now! So. I kind of thought I was Hiyoshi’s first kiss. Not that he was bad, I just thought… Well, who else would it be, you know?”

Yuushi raised a brow, teasing. 

“I’m only saying that because it's you, I wouldn't admit this to anyone else. But nope! Kirihara was. They were... Dating? Basically. And we never noticed. So when camp ended and Hiyoshi left, he gave Kirihara his number.”

“Uh huh…” he nodded slowly, waiting. 

Gakuto’s face was one of pity. “He lost Hiyoshi’s number. And so they never spoke again, for like a year.”

“...You’re kidding. _Surely_ he could have found a way to get in touch.”

Gakuto sat up, wide-eyed. “RIGHT? That’s what I said! But apparently Atobe didn’t have his number and by the time he got back, he figured it was too late and Hiyoshi already hated him.”

Yuushi sighed. “I guess I didn’t have his number either. He only just got a phone around that time. You used to track him down for us, remember?”

“You make it sound like it was hard. He was either at school, at the library, or at home. You guys were just too lazy to call his house.”

Yuushi smiled. “We were just messing with you.”

Gakuto made a sour face. “Yeah, you guys were mean to me. Must have sucked when I was gone and you had nobody to fuck with.”

Yuushi’s heart hurt. He reached over and squeezed Gakuto’s hand, hard enough to demand his attention. “Don’t say that.”

Gakuto looked at him for a second or two before pulling his hand away, rubbing where Yuushi squeezed it too tight. “I was just joking. We always screwed with Hiyoshi the most, anyway.”

Yuushi grinned approvingly, but it left a cold pause in the conversation he began to regret. “I imagine Hiyoshi was devastated.”

“Oh, yeah I’m sure. He didn't tell me about it in Russia, either. Makes more sense now why he was so down to make out.” He looked away, shy from the admission. 

“Suffering quietly. Our classic Hiyoshi.” Yuushi felt something heavy in his chest at what Gakuto said. 

_Poor, unlucky Hiyoshi. Went to Russia, made out with Gakuto, came back and didn’t tell anyone that Gakuto was found. _Feigning sympathy was harder. The silence on Gakuto’s whereabouts still bothered him. Yuushi reasoned that someone else must have known, or Gakuto would surely be more upset with him on the others’, on Yuushi’s behalf. Gakuto understood, right? How painful it was, not knowing where he was? Yuushi wondered.

“So that was the first time. But there was a second time, the next year when you were in high school and they were captains.”

_That_ piqued interest. Yuushi wondered if he could be so forgiving after being abandoned to radio silence. He looked at Gakuto talking, tapping his legs with his hand along to the rhythm of his speech. So animated and alive–Yuushi couldn't take it for granted that Gakuto was present, right next to him, in the now. Yuushi knew something similar to an abrupt, cut off kind of loss. He listened.

“Okay. Basically what happened was–”

= = =

“Hey! Hiyoshi!” _He hates you. He doesn’t want to talk to you. He’s probably going to try and beat the shit out of you. You left him without a word._

But it was him! It was _Hiyoshi!_

Kirihara was mildly worn out after the tennis he just played, but Hiyoshi Wakashi was walking down the park path ahead of him with a tennis bag and light brown mushroom hair that tossed in the breeze. And a Hyotei uniform, in case there was any confusion. Out of all the parks in Tokyo, he ran into him here.

“Hiyoshi!” He ran to catch up, Hiyoshi wouldn’t turn around. _What if it’s not him?_

Kirihara knew it was him. He just did.

And then the figure stopped walking. Right where he stood, for no other reason possible than because he heard his name. He didn’t move until Kirihara was beside him, and upon this moment Kirihara had no clue what to say, what could possibly make any of this okay, but he was here, and so was Hiyoshi, and something had to happen.

So he fucked it up. “How come you didn’t stop?” Why did he have to sound so out of breath?

Hiyoshi wouldn’t even meet his eyes and it felt like needles to the chest. _I deserve that._

“Listen. I’m sorry about. Ha...” Kirihara rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed, and _fuck_ Hiyoshi looked at him and he didn’t even look mad or anything–  
Just cold.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t text you, I mean. After camp. “

“Oh. Yeah.” He looked away. Kirihara was still reeling in the sound of his distinctive voice, like he possibly could have forgotten Hiyoshi’s voice. It hadn’t even been a year, but it had been way, way too long.

“I lost your number. I couldn't figure out how to contact you and… Look, I fucked up, Hiyoshi. But I still… Can we be friends?”

Hiyoshi met his eyes, and he looked like he was scared almost, for only an instant before he was steely and unreadable. Kirihara stared right back with the most pleading eyes he could muster. Hiyoshi hadn’t punched him, which maybe meant he was considering it, and he was clinging on to hope.

“Let me make it up to you.” _Please._

Hiyoshi looked straight ahead and lightly, just barely, he shrugged. Kirihara broke into a wide grin.

= = =

Standing before him like that, for the first time since then… As much as Hiyoshi tried to hate him he couldn’t. He got over it, but–

First of all, he did the eyes! _Dammit._ That had to be on purpose, right?

So okay, Hiyoshi relented. He better get a fucking explanation. But he knew if he was being real with himself… Friends didn’t sound so bad. They were friends before all of this, back when Kirihara was just an annoying roommate. 

The problem was how Kirihara was. Hanging out with him now… It almost tricked Hiyoshi into forgetting that time had passed. Because it felt like it didn't, like just yesterday they were second years at camp and the hurt and betrayal never happened. If he was an idiot, he would let himself fall for it, forget like the universe wanted him to. 

No, he had learned.

But that couldn't stop Hiyoshi from laughing at how Kirihara phrased his experience captaining a team. It didn't stop Hiyoshi from excitedly relating to exasperation with dumbass first years. And Kirihara's smile still made him smile when they understood each other. A second too late after each of these occurred, he would remind himself, _he hurt you._

It was strong, it was an echo of what they were like before, a remnant dragged along. Seeing him still gave Hiyoshi a little rush. Distantly, he hated that. 

= = =

“Isn’t this fraternizing with the enemy?”

Hiyoshi thought about how he was walking down the street with Rikkai’s captain. 

Kirihara turned to him with a devious look. “Why, you scared of getting caught?”

“Caught? Who would catch us?” The coaches?

“Your players, or my players.”

He hadn’t thought of that. Hiyoshi smirked at him and they kept walking til they got to the noodle place.

= = =

“So what are you doing for high school?” Hiyoshi spoke after swallowing, handling his special bird patterned chopsticks with far more grace than Kirihara’s enthusiastic ramen shoveling.

Kirihara swallowed before speaking excitedly. “Rikkai, cause tennis, duh. What about you?”

Hiyoshi nodded, it was as he expected. “Staying at Hyotei.”

“Is Atobe captain yet?”

Hiyoshi hung his head and sighed. “He should be.” He was serious, but Kirihara laughed.

“My senpai made it to the top,” Kirihara grinned, so smug. “But I’m gonna kick their asses next year. I’ll be captain again.” He glared and kicked at Hiyoshi’s leg under the table, taunting, a challenge.

“I’ll be captain again too, sooner.” _Gekokujou._

Kirihara frowned, he wasn’t expecting that. “Yeah right. You have to beat Atobe and Oshitari.”

“No problem.” Hiyoshi glared, challenging him back.

And then over the intensity Kirihara broke out laughing, and so did Hiyoshi (albeit more quietly), and they got a few looks from the table next over.

They unspokenly decided to hang out together for the rest of the afternoon. 

= = =

The two captains went window shopping for shoes and poked through a few other places until Hiyoshi saw a bookshop. He forgot how Kirihara understood him, never told him he was an asshole, that he was funny and easy to talk to, and he laughed at Hiyoshi’s jokes every time instead of mocking him like Gakuto would have, before. He understood holding the reins after the exit of powerful senpai. He knew what it was like to be underestimated and how laughable it was. 

It would be so easy to be friends with Kirihara.

Just friends, he had to remind himself, and not just once. Anything more was too risky, no matter how nicely his shoulders moved when he stretched his arms behind his head, standing a ways down an empty aisle of bookshelves. His hair bounced a little when he turned to look at Hiyoshi and he raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment. The small movement distracted him, jabbed him in the gut.

_Shit. _Why did Hiyoshi still get these feelings? Why did Kirihara have to _look_ like that?

They walked quietly along rows of books, Kirihara skimming the manga quickly before following Hiyoshi to the same aisle. Hiyoshi looked up from the mystery novel he was inspecting to where Kirihara wandered, surprisingly serene. He lazily viewed the titles, sliding his finger across the spines.

He used to think Kirihara was cute, back at camp. First, he was annoying. Nice to look at, but a nuisance, with all the talking and talking and questions. The proximity and tenacity that made him annoying also made his friendship hard to resist, it turned out.

Of all the places they found back then that were safe enough to share a kiss, the library hadn’t been one of them. 

Kirihara looked a little different now, maybe older, maybe taller, maybe stronger. Most noticeably his eyes were still bright but sharper. Though maybe he just forgot how intense they were.

Very nice to look at. _Too bad you can't trust him. _But poor Hiyoshi was having trouble getting through to himself, distracted by what he saw.

Kirihara walked up next to him. They stood in silence, breathing and not reading and still, but not at all relaxed.

Hiyoshi’s heart was beating fast. It bothered him that he couldn't move if he wanted to. 

===

Kirihara spoke his name in his inside voice, summoning courage. He forgot how much he liked him, he thought it would wear off with time, but it was starting to feel like then.

_Hiyoshi has nice eyes,_ Kirihara recalled when they finally met his, smart and observant, dark grey, knowing maybe, did they know?

He looked at the ground before stepping closer and Hiyoshi didn’t stop him from grabbing the edges of his long sleeves as he leaned in. He kissed Hiyoshi softly where he stood.

He pulled back to look at him.

“What are you doing?” Hiyoshi’s voice was cold. Kirihara’s stomach sank.

“Sorry,” it came out rough, raspy. “Accident.”

Hiyoshi didn’t step back but he pulled his sleeves away and looked at Kirihara hard. Kirihara waited to be reprimanded.

“I’m still mad at you.” Hiyoshi was quieter now, less stern. He narrowed his eyes and Kirihara felt bad, sick even.

“I know. Sorry.” 

He couldn’t move while Hiyoshi glared at him. _What is he thinking? _

===

Hiyoshi wasn’t thinking. He tried, but failed, as his head was exploding. Distantly he suspected he was going to regret all this. What he did know, down to his core, ringing out true during his mental meltdown: He wanted that kiss back. He hated Kirihara’s guilty face, but it looked so damn good on him. It wasn't fair, this was all wrong, it was wrong how _right_ it felt. With one loud inhale Hiyoshi pressed his lips to Kirihara’s, like it was the last kiss he'd ever have. It was exhilarating, Kirihara kissing him back like he meant it, like back then. For that instant, kissing Kirihara was his whole world. He forgot to be mad and it was worth it, all for those few seconds of perfect existence before he broke it as abruptly as it began, pulling his hand away from Kirihara’s cheek like it burned him.

He missed it immediately. Hiyoshi turned to the bookcase and ran a hand through his hair. _“Dammit.”_

Kirihara sucked in his lips, guilty. He waited through several seconds of mushroom brooding before he slowly held out his hand. After hesitating, Hiyoshi took it roughly.

“Are you gonna buy that?” 

“No.” Hiyoshi took his hand back to return the book to its spot and they left. Kirihara soon stole it again, biting back a smile.

= = =

Gakuto sighed. “Honestly I was surprised when Kirihara told me he won him over that easily. Hiyoshi must have been _really_ hung up.” He raised his eyebrows, almost disappointed in his friend.

He rolled over once, closer to Yuushi, and tugged on the corner of the blanket covering his lap. Yuushi sighed dramatically and gladly offered to share. Gakuto curled under it next to his knees.

“You look like a caterpillar.”

“Are you still afraid of caterpillars?”

Yuushi grimaced. “I’m not _afraid _of them. I just think they’re... Gross.”

“Are you calling me gross?” _Ha._

“So they kissed in a bookstore and they got back together? That’s adorable.”

Gakuto rolled over, face to the ground, hiding it. He didn’t seem to mind that it pulled Yuushi’s blanket off his lap. He yanked it back, less annoyed than he should be.

“No, that’s not what happened.”

Yuushi had a bad feeling, and accepted that he was now invested in Hiyoshi’s love life.

= = =

“No. NO! Nononoono. Where?” Kirihara almost dropped his phone twice fumbling with it, trying to reload the contacts list and find the one he saved before his phone died on the train. “I SAVED IT!” He yelled to his room. “It’s not fair!!!! FUCK!!!” He opened it again and again, opened his notes, texts, everything before screaming and throwing his phone against the wall. It made a hole and fell to the floor, screen broken. He picked it up and threw it again, screaming. The screen shattered.

He fell to the floor too, crumpled and panicking. “No no no no, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, no, no...” As he yelled in frustration again, before his mom came into his room to quiet him and stop his state from escalating, he replayed the events of 1-2 hours ago in his head:

= = =

“I’m going to an international tournament in Thailand for the weekend, so my phone won’t work while I’m there. But when I get back…” Hiyoshi looked away, embarrassed and blushing and Kirihara couldn’t hide his amusement as he waited. 

“We can... Make plans?” Hiyoshi spared a shy look at Kirihara and pursed his lips. 

“Uh, I don’t know. I’m really busy, I don’t have time for Hyotei tras-” he was lazy in hiding his smile and Hiyoshi cut him off with another kiss. 

_“Shut up, Kirihara.”_

Kirihara snickered and squeezed their hands, Hiyoshi squeezed his tighter, and vice versa until they both said “ow.”

They were on a park bench and it was getting dark, the park lights came on a while ago. Kirihara laid his head on Hiyoshi’s shoulder. “I gotta go home…” He didn’t want to. Honestly, anything that meant the arm around his waist wouldn’t be there anymore could fuck off. Hiyoshi, always way too responsible, was agreeing and getting up.

“No!” 

He ignored Kirihara but surprised him when he pulled him up into a tight hug, burying his face in his hair. _Fuck, this is good too. _They stood for awhile in the best hug before Hiyoshi raised his head a little to say something, right in his ear.

“If you do that to me again, I will track you down and make you regret it.” 

_Holy shit. _Kirihara never imagined a threat sounding so hot.

“I would never,” Kirihara whispered gravely, hugging him tighter. “I’m so, so sorry.” He was not an apologizer, but he meant it for him.

“Don’t. Lose. My number.” Hiyoshi scolded, putting his hands on Kirihara’s face and making him meet his glare. His look was so serious, it was a little scary, even to Kirihara. _Hot_. His words were scarier.

“I’m serious. I will never forgive you.” 

After he could unfreeze, Kirihara nodded enthusiastically. “I already filled out your contact, remember? When you get home on Sunday and turn your phone on, it will explode with messages. I promise. I will _break_ your fucking phone.” He snickered evilly until Hiyoshi finally smiled, and Kirihara stole a quick kiss. Hiyoshi had to drag him to get him to start toward the station. 

“I know you’ll miss me,” he teased, “but you have to go home. I have to pack.”

When Kirihara’s train arrived, they shared a quick tight hug and he had to push Kirihara off of him. 

Everything was perfect. Even though his phone died and he was bored on the train, Kirihara could close his eyes and remember the last thing he saw as the doors shut. Hiyoshi, smiling_. _

= = =

“What’s wrong? Baby what’s wrong? What happened to your phone? Akaya.”

_“No no no no no no no no no.”  
_His murmurs faded to nothing. Kirihara finally raised his head from his knees, laughing in disbelief. 

“Baby, your eyes.” 

Kirihara vaguely heard her calling for his sister, vaguely heard himself laughing harder, hysterical. _This can’t be happening. _

_Hiyoshi._

= = =

“Yuushi, are you _crying?_”

“What? No, no. I’m thinking. About how you brought this guy home for a one night stand and Hiyoshi had to find him half naked in your bathroom. And what you just told me was the last time they saw each other?”

Gakuto groaned and buried his face in Yuushi’s blanket. It was muffled, but the words got through:

“Don’t you think I feel bad enough?”

“So they really hadn't run into each other since then? Even with tennis?”

“That’s what Kirihara said.”

Yuushi didn’t believe it. Rikkai and Hyotei were both at Nationals last year. They would have crossed paths at some point in the last three years. Unless Kirihara was hiding from him.

In his thoughts, he nearly missed what Gakuto was whispering.

“If I was here, I could have helped.”

Yuushi’s heart cracked. “Gakuto, what could you have done?”

He rolled over and big childlike eyes, like the ones Yuushi hadn’t seen in a long time, locked on his. “We would have known about it. You and me. We would have found out. And I could have fixed it.”

“Gakuto, this has nothing to do with us…”

“I know! I know it’s not any of my fucking business but I could have _helped! _I could have involved myself anyway and none of this would have happened and poor Hiyoshi wouldn’t be sneaking my sketchy vodka into his room and missing work!”

“...What?”

Gakuto finally sat up and sighed. “Why do you think I went to Kirihara and found all of this out?” 

Yuushi supposed it never occurred to him. _Because you’re nosy? _

“That day... Back then, when I saw my sister? The next day Kirihara came over and Hiyoshi was there. I left so I wasn't but when I got home Hiyoshi was being weird. I drank all the beer the night before remember? So he drank my vodka, til I took it back, and he got more beer. He’s barely left the apartment, Yuushi. That’s why he was in my room that day. Dude, he drank himself sick and I had to call his dad to cover for him.”

_…Oh._

Gakuto invited Kirihara over the day after they got drunk, the day Gakuto said they couldn't hook up. Obviously Yuushi could infer what that meant. _In a way, it’s my fault. _Not that it was _really_ Yuushi’s fault that he and Gakuto had… sexual tension, currently amplified by the fact that Gakuto was nearly in his lap, staring straight at him, waiting for him to say something. Yuushi swallowed.

“So? What now?”

“Kirihara wants to win him back and we have to help him.”

Yuushi blinked. “You’re joking.”

“Nope! And you have to help me. I can’t do it without you, you’re the expert. Plus, think about how much easier it will be to win your girlfriend back compared to this!” Gakuto laughed genuinely.

“You have a point.” Yuushi sighed and leaned back on his hands. Especially since what Gakuto suggested was simply not going to happen.

“Has Kirihara changed, do you think? Does he even deserve another chance?”

Gakuto shook his head. “I told him to fuck off, but he said he was willing to do anything to prove himself. It was pathetic, Yuushi. We have to help them.”

Yuushi thought about it.

“Come on. You know you want to.”

He thought about it some more.

“Yuuuushi come on, say yes.”

Yuushi gave Gakuto the vaguest of looks and the redhead broke out a beaming smile. 

_I didn’t even say anything. _Gakuto chuckled triumphantly, drumming his hands on the ground. He knew he had won.


	22. Vodka Night 2

“Yuushi, why are you even in this class?” Gakuto hissed. He walked briskly out of their Chemistry lecture hall crumpling the stapled papers in his hands. 

Yuushi strolled out behind him, stupid fancy leather messenger bag empty, hands pocketed.

“Needed an easy credit.” 

“Bitch.”

“Well, the real reason,” Yuushi stepped in front of Gakuto and lowered his head, walking backwards. With a too-easy half smile and a low voice he confessed, “...was so I could meet you.”

In an instant Gakuto brought the bottom of his palm to Yuushi's forehead, smacking his head back hard and making him grunt and stumble.

“Quit it, sleaze.” _No, really. That's going to give _me_ nightmares._

“Shit, Gakuto. That hurt.” Subdued, Yuushi walked alongside him and held his forehead like a big baby. “What all did you learn in Russia?”

Gakuto laughed mischievously. “Lots. Just not chemistry.”

Yuushi rested an arm on his shoulder. “Let's do something to cheer you up.”

Gakuto hated the shoulder thing but he was very much not going to make it stop. Yuushi’s arm brushed warm next to his ear for an instant.

“Like what.” He crossed his arms and turned his head, hoping his face wasn't red.

“Hmmm. A bar, or something. Is there anywhere you’d like to go?”

Gakuto shook his arm off by crossing his hands behind his head, dancing as he walked, smiling at an idea.

“There's a place I heard of. It's probably not your scene, though.” Gakuto snickered at the thought. Yuushi smiled at him genuinely, and it made him forget whatever he had planned to say next. 

“I’m up for anything, _Gakuto.”_

= = =

“Oh ho ho, it's even better than I expected.” Gakuto had his head back laughing before they were even through the door. He eyed Yuushi, searching for his reaction to what they saw before them.

Yuushi blinked and shrugged, offering a nice casual smile, and it was normal enough that it _almost _made Gakuto pout, if not for how excited he was.

In no time at all, Gakuto was having a fantastic night. He made friends with some girls very quickly at the bar. All he had to do was speak Russian when he ordered him and Yuushi some shots and asked the bartender a question.

Within seconds, there were Russians. They descended upon him. 

“Is that your natural hair color?”

“Yeah!” Gakuto waved his head so his straight curtain of hair could wave around and the girls touched it. They promptly adopted him.

“This is Yuushi! He doesn't speak Russian. Do you all speak Japanese?”

Yuushi, sitting at the bar, shot still untaken, charmed them all with a gorgeous smile that made Gakuto’s chest twist, and he was bitter that the smile wasn't his. Bitterness was for sober people, he thought, and ordered another shot for himself.

After Gakuto and the girls managed to bully Yuushi into drinking his vodka–It was time to dance.

= = =

Yuushi was not sober, but he knew he was not drunk enough to hallucinate Gakuto kissing a girl. 

He had to take a break from dancing. He was sweaty but he easily resisted the removal of his shirt, which appeared to be customary in this club. He did watch Gakuto take off his, and worse, he was caught watching. It earned Yuushi a devilish smile and wink that pierced him in the heart. _He’s just drunk, _Yuushi thought_. _

He watched Gakuto dance with his new friends, laughing and smiling and having fun, speaking in Russian. Like somebody Yuushi didn’t know at all.

Except, obviously, for how he looked. It was _Gakuto. _His hair flipped around when he jumped like when he played tennis, but his smile was less challenging, more joyful. He was an excellent dancer and the unfamiliar music suited him. He was totally in his element, and Yuushi didn’t quite fit. He liked the bar better, it was quieter. There were other ways to assimilate. Vodka was growing on him.

He watched Gakuto dance with one of their new friends, a blonde girl. She looked truly Russian, but her Japanese was good. Yuushi’s eyes only strayed for a second, and when he looked back up, the girl and Gakuto were making out.

“Wow,” Yuushi whispered. He watched. He wasn't jealous, he was too blindsided to be jealous. Plus, it was… Had he ever even… 

Gakuto returned to the bar sweaty and bouncing and exactly the same. 

“I learn new things about you every day,” Yuushi leaned down to whisper.

He gave Yuushi a knowing look and a big shrug. He smiled, like it was funny. Yuushi ate that smile with his eyes and gave one of his own, and they took another shot together. Before they could head back out on the dance floor, the girls returned.

Yuushi was cornered.

“Take. It. Off! Take. It. Off!” Their hands were getting closer to his waist and he and Gakuto shared a look. He imagined Gakuto’s fingers sliding up his stomach beneath the fabric, edging it off his body with his wrists. He knew how that would end: Yuushi would get the shirt off his head and grab Gakuto’s bare waist, yank him in, run fingers through his hair and tip his chin and–

That isn’t what happened. The girls pulled it off, and Gakuto’s only contribution was a few fingers at the hem for an instant, not even touching his skin. After the shirt was peeled over Yuushi’s face, Gakuto had stepped back. He was looking at him, smiling. Friendly. He only looked at Yuushi's face.

= = = 

The dance floor was an experience. The strobe lights flashed brightly, so Gakuto’s vision was fragmented every second, black and white, a series of freeze frames. It gave everything a kind of mystery, a magic. The loud music compounded his other senses, and dancing with the girls and Yuushi stirred them more.

Gakuto was behind him, feeling playful. He admired his friend’s back, coming up to dance a little behind him, just shaking his hips. Nothing too close, but close enough for his fingertips to burn nicely on Yuushi's skin, sliding up his hips, to his back–

“Gakuto, what are you doing?”

“Shit. Sorry.” The way Yuushi turned and looked at him didn't say “stop”, though. But it didn't encourage him, either.

Gakuto didn't know what to say and he was a little too drunk to care, but it was awkward and he brought his hands to himself.

“Dance with me” Yuushi asked, grabbing his wrists, fixing it.

= = =

“Let's go sit down for a bit!” Two of the girls beckoned Yuushi to the couches, one grabbing onto his hand. It was a welcome opportunity for a break, dancing could be exhausting and a little dizzying. He turned briefly to search for Gakuto, spotting his tossing red hair from a distance, dancing with other people. Yuushi’s face was hot from all the alcohol, and he was inebriated enough to feel a little lightheaded in his steps, but he felt up for anything and in a good mood.

When he got to the seating area, it appeared one of the girls had disappeared. Where did she go?

Yuushi felt himself being dragged down onto the couch, a surprise.

And even more suddenly, hot lips were on his. 

He didn’t mean what he said next.

After a few seconds of pure experience, automatic reaction, he found he needed an excuse not to kiss this girl. The last thing he wanted was for Gakuto to see him kissing someone else– that wasn't the message he was trying to send.

But after he said it, he saw Gakuto standing at the fringe of the dance floor, a few meters away, eyes a little wide. He wasn't there before, right? Before Yuushi could think it through, he had turned and disappeared into the crowd.

_Fuck. No, this is bad._

Yuushi groaned and headed to the bar, where he threw wisdom to the wind and ordered another shot.

= = =

Yuushi found him in the crowd, and they danced again.

The way his hands touched Gakuto melted him alive. _I should stop this, _he thought_. _But Gakuto kept dancing against Yuushi, who moved his hips in the same rhythm hot behind him, whose soft touch grew firmer sliding from his hips up his chest, electric on his skin. The bass pushed through the air, flashing lights, and a lot of vodka made it–made him– impossible to resist.

He gave into it. He pressed his back into Yuushi’s chest, savoring every centimeter of skin on skin touch. He arched back, waving his hips in Yuushi’s grip, reached an arm behind Yuushi's head and raked it up through his hair. 

And then he remembered what Yuushi was saying earlier and felt trashy. 

_Isn't this where you want to be? Isn't this what you want?_

But it all felt so wrong. It wasn’t as if Gakuto could forget what he had witnessed.

Yuushi was drunk. So drunk. 

Gakuto emerged from the crowd just as he fell into that girl's lap, and then they were making out. Obviously that wasn't fun for Gakuto to see, but then Yuushi pushed her away, and Gakuto watched him rub his face. The girl asked him what was wrong, and Gakuto’s small hope expired instantly when he heard what he said,

"I can't. I have… I have a girlfriend."

The world dissolved slowly after that. 

Gakuto told himself he was okay and he believed it, but he gradually noticed the walls were puddling, like old window glass sliding down, thicker at the bottom, like the world’s slowest liquid. And his stomach felt like that too, like a slow sinking feeling he almost got away with ignoring.

But Gakuto danced with him now, felt his hands roam up his bare body, drunk and horny and Gakuto felt ‘homewrecker’ written all over him.

He pushed Yuushi away, made it seem like an accident.

“Come back… let's sit down...” Yuushi stumbled just slightly and Gakuto thought about all the vodka they forced on him. Yuushi followed Gakuto by a hand gripping his shoulder back to the couches.

Gakuto sat next to him to take a breather and Yuushi pulled him against him in a hug.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered too loudly, vodka breath on Gakuto's ear, trapping their bodies together.

“Yuushi, let go… You're sweaty…”

“So much, Gakuto, you have no idea.”

It was torture, his hot breath reaching his cheek, his too loud whispers from lips that brushed against his hair, too close. Even if he sounded stupid and drunk, he sounded hot stupid and drunk.

“Dude, how many shots have you had?” Gakuto forced himself to laugh.

“Mmmm.” Yuushi leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes with a small smile. His hair was messy, probably from their dancing. Gakuto briefly wondered if he was going to fall asleep, but then he spoke, in a surprisingly measured voice.

“Gakuto, what was Russia like?”

Gakuto leaned back into the couch too, idly watching the dance floor. “What do you wanna know?”

“Did you kiss a lot of people?” Yuushi opened his eyes, but he didn't look at Gakuto when he asked. Gakuto was grateful for that, because he was overwhelmed enough by the words themselves.

_That’s _what he wanted to know? “Wh..well… um…” 

“I kissed two people after you left,” Yuushi confessed, musingly.

Gakuto definitely kissed more than two people in Russia. Maybe add a zero. Just kissing? It wasn’t like he kept count.

“I kissed a lot of people. I waited– I mean, um…” Gakuto stopped awkwardly, for some reason it had felt important to include that he waited awhile after his kiss with Yuushi.

Yuushi nodded thoughtfully. Then he leaned over and said the unexpected:

“Help me find a bathroom?”

Gakuto led the way with Yuushi's hand following the small of his back, held there firmly whenever they had to stop moving as they made their path through the crowd. His touch, pressed fingers on bare skin, like candy. A very guilty pleasure.

Gakuto was glad, later, that Yuushi didn't ask him more about the people he kissed in Russia. It had never really embarrassed him before, but now, the thought of Yuushi knowing… of thinking of him like that…

He didn't want to know how he'd react. Gakuto didn't want Yuushi to know the measures he took to cope with losing him.

When they got to the poorly lit area next to the bathrooms, Yuushi turned suddenly and pinned an arm against the wall, right next to Gakuto’s head. Gakuto fell back against the wall struck as stone.

Everything he thought he knew felt wrong. The way Yuushi’s eyes were looking into his own, so personal, so attentive, like Gakuto was all that mattered–and he knew he looked at him the same way back, because Yuushi _was _all that mattered. And maybe they were just drunk, but everything about his girlfriend, and him being in love with her, and them being just friends felt like such bullshit in that moment, when their faces neared and someone asked a question but nobody cared what it was. They simply existed in a frozen moment, looking at each other in the dark hallway aside a room of flashing light, their eyes reflecting that light and the images of each other.

His heart was beating a million miles a minute, his ears were hot, and he wanted nothing more for that moment to last forever, reveling in the thrill of it, the closeness, the attention Yuushi solely devoted to him. He’d feel wary if only he wasn't so lost.

“You're so beautiful,” Yuushi whispered.

_Fuck! _Reality car-crashed into his frame of mind. That sounded more like something he'd say to a girl.

Gakuto swallowed hard, guilt and defense mechanisms floating back up to the surface. “What kind of line is that?” 

Then Yuushi broke into a big, gorgeous smile, like he was caught. And he stood up straight and spun around, the drunk bastard, and stumbled a little in the right direction– toward the bathroom door.

Gakuto shook it off. Yuushi was just a damn flirt. _Stupid. _

And Gakuto, unfortunately– Gakuto adored him even more.

= = =

Yuushi really wanted to stay at Gakuto's, but Gakuto took his drunk ass home and put him in his bed. Gakuto was annoyed by the profound thank yous repeated _over_ and _over_. "Yeah Yuushi, I know I'm your best friend. Shut the fuck up and go to sleep, you'll wake up your parents."

"Okay. Good night Gakuto." And he closed his eyes and snuggled in and he was fucking beautiful, wasted, eyes closed, passing out on his pillow like that. Gakuto frowned with one last look, then he quietly closed the door behind him.

He got home and threw the door open. He saw Hiyoshi rise from the couch.

"Good. You're awake."

He marched over and Hiyoshi rubbed his eyes, as if perhaps he wasn't really awake until just then. "Fun night?" he asked dryly, he certainly did not care. Gakuto dropped onto the couch next to him, sitting on folded legs.

"Hiyoshi, there is something you need to hear." He spoke seriously. This was a confrontation.

"What?"

"Lately, you've been kind of a pillow princess."

Hiyoshi stared at him in exasperation for a few seconds. "What the hell is a pillow princess?"

Gakuto shook his head. "Never mind. What I'm saying is, I need you to fuck me." Suddenly he was hovering over Hiyoshi, who had truly just woken up. "If you think you can handle that," Gakuto whispered.

Hiyoshi sighed a long, long sigh. "You're such a brat, Mukahi-san."

Gakuto smiled. His wish was to be granted.

Maybe it was what both of them needed. To forget about the ghosts that haunted them. They could pretend it was just each other, breathing their names, kissing because fuck the rules, Gakuto was miserable, Hiyoshi was miserable, they could at least get off and remember they had each other.

Afterwards, Hiyoshi didn't leave his arm around Gakuto's middle for long. After maybe 20 seconds of attempted cuddling, he rolled onto his back.

"Maybe you should..." Gakuto didn't want to be rude.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go sleep in my bed." Hiyoshi started getting up. The weirdness was mutual.

"Okay. cool. Hey. Thanks, Hiyoshi."

"Yeah, no problem."

"Night."

"Night." The door shut quietly.

Safe and alone and fucked out, Gakuto fell asleep in seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Thanks for your patience. I've been working on this chapter since September! 10 months! I'm also posting the next chapter, which is my very favorite of them all. The rest of the fic will come much faster, that's a guarantee ;)
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me and for reading this far!


	23. Hiyoshi Snaps

Gakuto had to admit he was a little jealous of Hiyoshi. Look at how badly Kirihara wanted him back. Okay, his transgressions were pretty terrible, the fact that he slept with Gakuto _again_ knowing Hiyoshi was his roommate was a real dick move. And the whole ghosting him (twice) deal. 

But it must be fun, to be chased. He wished he could say so to Hiyoshi, but he was meant to be lowkey about his involvement– which was honestly just involving Yuushi, and letting Yuushi give Kirihara all the advice.

He could still go over his woes with Hiyoshi. He already told him about how Kota-san had blocked Yuushi, and Gakuto texted Kenya to get to her, and she was just being so unreasonable about it. When really she was lucky someone as sexy and nice as Yuushi loved her and really–

“Mukahi-san, shut up.” Hiyoshi slapped his hands on the counter. Gakuto rolled his eyes, what a drama queen.

“I can’t _take_ your bitching anymore,” he growled. Wow, okay, maybe this was different.

Gakuto opened his mouth, stunned, but Hiyoshi glared at him and continued. “You can’t even see what you’ve been given. You don’t understand. You complain about this girl, who you barely know, and.” Hiyoshi inhaled, spoke more calmly with no loss of disgust. “Oshitari’s girlfriend broke up with him so he could be with you. You can only be mad and call it jealousy, but that’s bullshit, frankly, and you’re blind.”

_What the fuck? _Where did Hiyoshi get off saying this? “How the fuck would you know, assho-“

“You know, she’s smart. This girl is smart,” he was nodding his head a little, smiling bitterly. “She even said it, you_ dumbass_. You told me. It took meeting you once and she knew it was a battle she couldn’t win, and got out. It was self preservation, I’m impressed.” 

Gakuto was speechless. Hiyoshi could be a cruel asshole sometimes but he’d never seen him this vicious– he was _angry_.

“You know why I won’t date you? You know why?”

This entire tirade was a rollercoaster of ludicrous. Gakuto stumbled over his words, “As if I would ever give you the chance!”

_"Don’t pretend,_” Hiyoshi narrowed his eyes at him, “that you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m not a fucking idiot.”

Gakuto was numb, he was so furious. Why was he supposed to believe this shit?

“Don’t get me wrong, _Gakuto_. I’m not interested, despite the facts; we live together. We know everything about each other. We have sex_. _We’re, hah, friends, I’ll admit. So _yeah, _it’s crossed my mind.”

Now Gakuto was speechless because he couldn’t disagree. Yuushi had asked him why he didn’t date Hiyoshi and before the mission, he found he didn’t have a real answer.

“And sometimes, when you’re not being a little bitch, you’re actually kind of cute. You’ll do little nice shit, or whatever, with the groceries and the tea. But the thought leaves immediately, because I do not have a single, _inkling_ of a doubt,”

_Holy shit, Hiyoshi._

“You couldn’t be mine.”

“Wait. _What?”_

“If I’m going to date someone, there has to be some potential that I’d be a priority to them. I don’t think that’s asking for a lot,” he said simply, crossing his arms, peak sassy brat. “You are incapable of that. There is no space for anyone at the top of your priorities, Mukahi-san.” He was finished, glaring, challenging.

“That’s not true. Not that I’m encouraging you. Fuck you, Hiyoshi, that isn’t true. And what the fuck would you expect me to do anyway?” He leaned toward the counter with his foot down, challenging him back. _I swear to god I’m about to fight this dude but he’s the only one I know_ _who could kick my ass. _

“She didn’t break up with him for some ‘selfless’ sacrifice, you moron. And even if she did, Yuushi loves her. You said it yourself, they’d get married. Was that just some test?”

“No, I believed it for about the first 5 minutes you were back. Then I came to my senses and I needed 40,000 Yen.”

“_Fuck_ you. Well, they are, and I didn’t come back to Japan so I could be in love with my junior high doubles partner, this is my _home. _God, you’re a dick.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Hiyoshi’s voice was defensive but had lost 98% of its scorn. “God, you just don’t get it.” He sighed and sat against the counter. “You two are like aliens. You blend in with the rest of the world just fine, but you act like this species could never really understand you.”

Gakuto couldn’t help it, “Ahahaha, you did _not_ just bring aliens into this.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to explain so you can move on and I don’t have to deal with the overflow of your bullshit. In junior high you two were basically this separate entity.”

“That’s not true! I hung out with you, and Jirou, and, other people all the time! I wasn’t like Shishido and–”

“It was different. With those two you’d walk up and feel like you were interrupting something, but I got used to the feeling of being a third wheel,” that afternote a bit sour.

“But you and Oshitari were never like that, you dragged people into your conversations, even. Especially if you were talking about them.”

Gakuto swallowed. _Shit._ They sounded like douchebags.

“You hung out separately. You almost never acted weird together in groups, and as individuals you seemed like somewhat normal people. Then we’d see you together and it felt like everything, all the other people in your life were just a joke to you. Even if it wasn’t, it felt like you were being fake, that we were fooled the whole time. It was far worse than Ootori and Shishido.”

“No! That’s not true, we weren’t like that at all, I’ve never been fake.” Hiyoshi had to know that was true, Gakuto was bad at being fake.

“Yeah, eventually I figured out you weren’t doing it on purpose. It was still annoying but it couldn’t be helped. Every single thing was just an inside joke to you two. You never even said hello to each other, you’d just skip over and start whispering and he’d be sarcastic and you’d both have these smug and knowing looks,” Hiyoshi laughed, 

“You looked like you were talking shit, as if people couldn’t see you. Then you would rejoin reality and start fooling everybody all over again.”

“I…” Was that true? Were he and Yuushi really like that? “We sound awful.”

Hiyoshi just shrugged and that pissed him off. 

“Well if we were so terrible, then why do you want us to be together so bad? It’s not any of your fucking business.”

“I told you, it’s because I have to live with you. It’s not that hard to understand,” he sighed and remembered his glass of water. Gakuto supposed he needed hydration after chewing him out. _Asshole._ Gakuto’s fury dwindled to an annoyed posture, refusing to look at Hiyoshi. 

“You need each other. Pretend it’s supernatural or undiscovered physics, but everything goes to shit when you’re apart. Wait.” He looked intense. 

“What, Hiyoshi?”

“I thought of the perfect metaphor, but it’s a martial arts metaphor. I guess it might work with tennis…. Kind of. No. Ugh, never mind.” He looked so frustrated with himself, and Gakuto was glad he saved this for the right moment. 

That moment was now.

“I know martial arts.”

Hiyoshi looked at him. Once he saw that Gakuto was serious, his mouth opened in the smallest o, his eyes opened a lot more. “What?” he breathed.

“Yeah, I learned in Russia.” 

“What style?” Hiyoshi kept very calm and quiet, like this was the greatest conspiracy he’d ever discovered–Gakuto had a hell of a time trying not to laugh. 

“Wing Chun Kung fu and Taekwondo.” _2 styles?! _He could read Hiyoshi perfectly in that moment, his eyebrows up half his forehead. He expected Hiyoshi to be mad, to say something sarcastic like, _what, it didn’t cross your mind to mention that?_

But he had never looked so earnest. He looked sad, even. “How come you never told me?”

_Shit. _Gakuto had actually hurt his feelings. He was at a loss. “I... I’m sorry, I wanted to save it as a surprise.” 

Hiyoshi cleared his throat. Right, the metaphor–

“Wait, I have more questions. Those styles are perfect for you, did you choose them yourself?” 

Gakuto should have known this would result in a thorough interview. “I chose Taekwondo after that tournament, ‘cause I wanted to do jump kicks, duh, but they signed me up for Wing Chun without telling me. I didn’t start until after you left, though, or you would have known. They just gave me my schedule and I was like ‘what the fuck is this?’ because it was in weird kanji, but it didn’t make sense, and when I complained they pretended they couldn’t understand me.” Gakuto rolled his eyes. “Turns out it was in Chinese. Anyway, they wouldn’t let me do Taekwondo otherwise. It was both or neither, and I was _not _going to choose neither,” he laughed. 

Hiyoshi was staring at him in awe. 

“Anyway, it didn’t take long for me to understand why-“

“Wing Chun is suited for you because-“

“Yeah Hiyoshi, I know. Because I’m small. It’s a style for small people and women. I know. Do you know how many times I’ve been told that? Kids used to laugh but eventually I could make that stop,” he shrugged coolly.

“But yeah, if they’d let me only do Taekwondo I would have gotten my ass kicked.” Hiyoshi was absolutely mind blown and it was very, very amusing. Gakuto was glad he kept this a secret. What a gratifying reveal.

“They really let you spar with mixed martial arts?”

Gakuto scratched the back of his head, then smoothed his hair down. This was where the story took a turn. “There weren’t a lot of rules.”

“What do you mean? How did you train?”

Wooo, boy. Hiyoshi’s look of confusion was about to change.

“We had formal classes, everyone who did martial arts had an hour and a half every day except Sundays, so for me 3 hours.”

_3 hours a day?_ Hiyoshi mouthed.

“...But that was basic stuff, mostly form practice and fine tuning techniques with the senseis. We sparred outside of class.”

Hiyoshi, ever the dojo child, could not comprehend. “What do you mean, where?”

“Like… in the hallways, and stuff. Between classes, usually not like normal classes, that only happened to me a few times. But in the evenings, mostly, whenever someone challenged you.”

Hiyoshi’s face had gone completely neutral. It made Gakuto uncomfortable. “This isn’t funny, Mukahi-san.” 

“What? Yeah it was scary at first–“ 

“You can stop. You’ve made cruel jokes before, but this is a new low, even for you,” he deadpanned. 

“Hiyoshi, this isn’t a joke. Why would I make this up?”

“Right, so you’re telling me your school was an MMA melee.”

“God, Hiyoshi, you make it sound so formal. It was basically bullying. Kids got into a lot of fights, it just helped to have skills to back it up.”

Hiyoshi came around the corner and stood in front of him, facing him. Oh come on, he was _not about to- _for the face! He tried to punch Gakuto in the face, and he blocked it without thinking, and that forearm block _hurt._

_Fuck you_, he backed up and punched back, thwarted. They caught and blocked punches for a minute or two, and Gakuto did not want to do this but he couldn’t exactly _stop _as Hiyoshi was genuinely trying to hit him. He almost always started in Wing Chun, since it was defensive, grounded, and safer, especially if he was out of practice. Besides, this apartment was small as fuck, aka, suited for close-quarters-combat, which was the main appeal of this kung fu style. 

_I have the advantage_, he realized with a little too much pride. Hiyoshi was obviously not used to close-quarters. 

But he was still blocking and pissing Gakuto off, and it was never long before he got into Taekwondo, the real fun. He wasn’t as sloppy as he thought he’d be, and the aspect of kicking the shit out of this guy was delicious.

After his first high kick, Hiyoshi smiled, and blocked it. Was he prolonging this?

_Bastard. _Wing Chun for his hands, Taekwondo for the legs, and _motto tonde miso,_ _bitch._ He backed up enough to do a jump kick but he fucked it a little, it even landed, but below his shoulder. 

Hiyoshi could have caught that. He could have grabbed Gakuto’s leg and had him down in seconds. Gakuto backed up into a defensive stance, knees bent at the ready, and Hiyoshi kept smiling at him, increasingly smug. _Fine, I’ll kick you in the balls_. For some reason, they never saw that coming. Hiyoshi just stomped his leg down, not hard enough to break it, _gee, how generous,_ and laughed, 

“I don’t trust you that much.” 

Gakuto did not ask for a fight, not against a professional multi blackbelt, who was clearly toying with him and enjoying it. Gakuto tried another kick, but Hiyoshi got lower and lurched at him fast, and Gakuto had to scramble to back away, hands up. When he kicked again, Hiyoshi stood normally, casually caught his foot with his hand, and Gakuto dropped to the floor hard_._

“You’re better than I expected,” he noted. Gakuto was having trouble breathing from the pain of the hard landing, but Hiyoshi was _glowing_. Beaming. It was bizarre and wrong. Martial arts really was his life.

“Anyway, the metaphor is even better now. My prediction was correct!” Gakuto scowled at him, Hiyoshi reached out with a hand to help him up, _suspicious_. But he was too lazy to get up himself, so he accepted the assistance.

“What prediction,” he grumbled in a deep voice while he got himself some water.

“You know how there’s a base stance? For all styles?” 

Yes, Gakuto knew that much, even though he had never talked about it in Japanese before. Hiyoshi was referring to the neutral, the idle position you are taught to stand in, how you position your arms, balance yourself. It was the ready pose from which you could perform any move, defensive or offensive, and it varied by style.

“Yeah, the Wing Chun one is weird.” Gakuto folded his knees in and his feet out, but before he could bring his fists beside his chest, Hiyoshi was already in the same stance. 

“Show off.” 

“What, you think I don’t know about Wing Chun? Man Ip?”

Gakuto stared at him blankly.

“He taught Bruce Lee Kung fu? The most famous practitioner of your preferred style? I should have dropped you harder.”

Gakuto just looked at him with dead eyes, absolutely out of patience. 

“Wait, who said it was my preferred style? Just because I start with it doe–“

Hiyoshi interrupted with his shit eating grin. “That’s just it, Mukahi-san. You know two styles, pretty evenly right?” Gakuto nodded, it was more or less so. “And you switched primarily to Taekwondo after the first few minutes… BUT…hehe–“

Gakuto didn’t like the look on his face, not one bit.

“You _always_ went back into the Wing Chun stance.” He had made his point, and returned to normal standing position. 

“...Shit.” 

Hiyoshi was... right. How come nobody ever pointed it out to him? This was a pretty big fuck up, considering it’s the very first thing you learn in a style, and it was not at _all _suited for jumping.

“I mean, you have to know it’s impractical for taekwondo. You look like an idiot.”

Gakuto scowled some more. “So what? I just learned it better. Taekwondo is way more fun, though.”

“Is that what you think? Why do you like it more?”

“Because I like jumping, I can jump really well, it looks awesome, it’s more powerful–“

“Do you trust Taekwondo?”

_What the fuck kind of zen mindshit is this?_

“Because if you did, you would start with jumping. That’s what you did with tennis. But you always start with Wing Chun, revert back to it _even when you aren’t cornered._”

“That’s not true, we’re in close quarters, so-“

Hiyoshi shrugged, looked bored.

“It doesn’t really matter, because it doesn’t change my point. My original metaphor is this: pretend the world is martial arts, and everyone has a base stance. Oshitari is your base stance. 

“You automatically gravitate back to him without even thinking, just like you return to your stance, even if you haven’t fought in months.” 

Gakuto could barely even remember their former conversation, but it was sort of actually making a little sense, if Hiyoshi gave him time to think and hadn’t continued so eagerly,

“But it’s even better! Even if you have two different martial arts styles, two separate worlds, you _still_ gravitate back to the same stance. Across universes.” 

He cackled, “Even though it makes no sense! And it’s fitting, Mukahi-san. Beyond all logic and reason and practicality, even if it makes things worse for you, or harder, or slows down your jump kicks– I’m certain you will always be back to Oshitari, whether you do it consciously or not.”

This was astounding, Gakuto was speechless. This was the most insane metaphor he’d ever heard/seen/felt. It even made sense. He literally had to battle for it! _Leave it to Hiyoshi._

“I’m still disgusted you don’t know who Man Ip is.” _Aaaaaaand, he’s back._ Gakuto let out a sigh of relief.

“Whatever, Hiyoshi. I couldn’t understand anything in that class for like 6 months, my Mandarin was shit.”

Hiyoshi’s eyes widened again. Oh. Gakuto had forgotten about that.

_“You were taught kung fu in Mandarin Chinese?_ What, were you taught taekwondo in Korean, too?”

“Well, yeah. But my Korean sucks, even now. I had my gymnast friends explain stuff to me.” 

Hiyoshi squinted at him. He was leaning on the counter with his elbows, folded hands beneath his chin. “Mukahi-san. How many languages do you know?”

“Uhh,” he thought for a second. “Like 5?”

“I mean, I passed Korean literacy somehow, but I definitely couldn’t go to Korea and pass for Korean.” Korean was supposed to be the easiest language for Japanese speakers to learn. It was a sad irony.

Hiyoshi tripped over words for a solid 15 seconds. “Is it even possible to learn four new languages in three years? And wait, are you saying you can pass for Chinese?”

“Everyone had to do it, but it’s definitely hard. I did better than most.” Gakuto smiled, he was actually getting _nostalgic _about Russia. “Yeah, Chinese is easy. Even if your Mandarin is shitty you can just pretend you’re from a weird corner of the country and they’ll believe you. Not that I’ve been, but we used to play around a lot and practice accents. I basically taught my Russian friend Kansai-Ben, ‘cause of Yuushi, hehe.”

Hiyoshi wasn’t laughing. He was just staring.

“Mukahi,” he deadpanned. “You went to a Russian spy school.”

This is what he was afraid of. “Hiyoshi, I’m not a Russian spy.”

Hiyoshi nodded slowly. “You aren’t a good enough liar to be a Russian spy. Except now I’m not so sure.”

“It wasn’t a spy school. It was just a really intense school with a lot of sports and languages. I promise, the accent thing was just for FUN.” Gakuto got pissed suddenly. “Do you even know what I’m majoring in?”

Hiyoshi looked at him blankly with no shame. Must be revenge for Ip Man. “Well, Linguistics, in case you give a fuck.” 

“I don’t. Ugh.” _Wow, bitch._ “I can’t think about this right now. I’m trying to be pissed at you but I’m too impressed. I hate that,” he muttered. “You’re an asshole for hiding this from me, your weird MMA Russian spy school. I deserve better.”

Hiyoshi was 100% serious. Gakuto didn’t think it would mean _this_ much to him.

“Do you still practice? Either style, I mean.”

Gakuto laughed. “Uh, not really.”

“Well you’re going to start.”

_Excuse me? _“Hm, hold on. You’re not the boss of me. I had to do that shit on top of gymnastics for three years and I wanna sleep normal hours now. I don’t wanna go to your stupid dojo, got it?”

Hiyoshi looked at him for a second. 

“Are you joking? Of course we can’t go to the dojo. I don’t get to do empty hand combat, Mukahi-san. I’m training to take over a school focused on ancient weaponry, do you think I can just go in and throw hands with some random amateur off the street? Your styles aren’t even Japanese.”

_Ouch. Amateur off the street. _

This was even worse than when he was reading about cults at 3 AM and passionately wanted to talk about them. Gakuto forgot how Hiyoshi got when he was exposed to things he actually cared about. He tapped into one and there was no backing out.

“I’m not joking, you _owe me_. I could have been watching kung fu movies with you this whole time and you lied to me about something this important. This isn’t just for me, either.” He was so scathing again, _jeez what non martial arts trash we all are to you,_ also, _you thought I’d rather watch ancient aliens than kung fu movies? _

“I won’t sit around while you just waste what you’ve learned. If you don’t train, you can’t live here.”

WH- “Whaaaat? Hiyoshi, come _on.”_

_“_You think this is a fucking joke? This is my life, what did you expect?”

_Shit. _He should have never told Hiyoshi in the first place. “Don’t worry,” Hiyoshi snapped sarcastically. “It won’t be a lot. Just enough to keep your muscle memory up.” _Lazy_ _fucker _was highly implied.

_Yuushi wouldn’t accuse me of being a Russian spy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be my favorite thing I've ever written. I hope you had fun reading it!


	24. Leave Me Alone

Hiyoshi’s life was pretty easy. There were annoyances, but he had a pretty simple, comfortable existence. He had a steady job, a promising future in martial arts, an apartment, and a roommate he could typically rely on. 

Except, what on Earth made Gakuto think it was okay to tell Kirihara where Hiyoshi worked?

Speaking of annoyances... Hiyoshi felt betrayed, before remembering Gakuto didn't know any better. He had no reason not to share, because he didn't know that Hiyoshi wanted Kirihara as far away as possible.

But still, that was personal information he just offered up!

The consequences were immense. Rather than nightly appearances in his sleep, Kirihara now made daily appearances. At the dojo. _While Hiyoshi was working_.

The first time, Hiyoshi almost had a heart attack. He was teaching a younger class. The students didn't notice when he froze at the sight of wild, curly black hair passing by the open door to the dojo. The person stopped. They lowered to tie their shoe. When they stood up, Hiyoshi saw that it wasn't him.

He felt so silly. What a wimp, seizing up because someone with seaweed-esque hair passed by._ You’re an idiot, Wakashi._

The second time, he had a similar reaction. A curly dark-headed figure stopped in front of the door, open for air flow until it got too cold. Hiyoshi quickly dismissed it as his paranoid imagination until the figure stopped and _faced _the doorway. _You've got to be fucking kidding me, _was Hiyoshi’s first thought when he recognized his face. He could not believe what was happening. He didn't want to believe.

His second thought was something like, _no no no no. Don't do this. How do you know where I work? Fuck. _So paralyzed was Hiyoshi that the kids too turned around to stare at the stranger in the doorway, who was softly placing a plastic bag just inside the entrance. He realized he was caught and looked at the kids, but not at Hiyoshi. He grinned and gave a little wave, still crouching, and abruptly darted off.

Kirihara was gone.

“Sensei, who was that?”

Hiyoshi wished he did not know. He instructed the kids to finish their warm up, counting out loud while he went to investigate.

Hiyoshi did not look outside the door to see if Kirihara lingered, because he was hoping he did not. Instead, he shut it.

Other side!" He began counting aloud as the kids did sidekicks with their right legs. "Ten," kick, "eleven," kick, "twelve," kick...

He leaned down to inspect the plastic bag. It was warm and smelled… Good. It was food. 

_The hell?_

He unfolded the slightly crumpled grid paper, warm from the box it lay atop. 

> Hiyoshi- 
> 
> This is what you ordered last time, I think. Enjoy~
> 
> -Akaya

“Nineteen... Twenty…_” Last time? _Oh. From _that _day where he was stupid enough to forgive Kirihara for ghosting him the first time. Although, it was funny, at the time he wasn't that surprised.

And weird how it wasn't the first time that Kirihara had forgotten the real "last time" - the time in the locker room. What, did that not count?

“Sensei?”

_Shit_. He was teaching! He didn't have time for this. “Push-ups, then partner up.” The warm up was almost over. He was working! Kirihara couldn't interrupt that. Hiyoshi put the food on the small table next to his keys and focused on his students.

After his class ended and the kids were all picked up by their parents, Hiyoshi finally allowed himself to inspect the food.

He had it on the back burner of his mind during the class, whether he would eat it or not. He had decided not to, but opening the bag now it smelled _so _good, and he hadn't eaten…

_Dumbass. _

It wasn't the same as what he ordered, but it was very close. 

He regretted his choice when facing how much he enjoyed the yakisoba. He did his best to forget where it came from.

= = = 

Hiyoshi wouldn’t say anything.

“So where did it come from? Did someone give it to you?”

“Mukahi-san, do you want it or not?” Hiyoshi grumbled.

“Hmm. I think you should eat it. We're out of food anyway.”

“Fine.” Hiyoshi snatched the bag from the counter and sat at the table in front of their tv. Once again, he ate Kirihara’s yakisoba.

He watched Hiyoshi devour it. Gakuto channeled Yuushi and put away his grin.

The instructions they gave Kirihara were a little demanding for a guy still in high school, and Gakuto wasn’t sure how long he’d realistically be able to keep up coming to Tokyo every day to pick up and deliver food. It was asking a lot, but just like Yuushi said... Kirihara was asking a lot, too.

Talking to Kirihara, hearing about his classes and tennis practice... Gakuto didn't miss high school, but sometimes he missed Hyotei. He always wondered what it would have been like to go to high school there as planned.

Gakuto talked to Yuushi about it sometimes, but the conversations tended to stall, probably because it was always written with ‘here's everything that happened when you weren't here!’ He and Hiyoshi never really talked about it, either. Hiyoshi never once complained, but Gakuto wasn't stupid. He knew it was a sore subject with his roommate, who he had a feeling really _did _miss high school. Hiyoshi was the kind of kid who always liked school, always did his homework, and always took honors classes. He knew Hiyoshi loved martial arts, and he seemed happy enough to spend his life in a dojo. But to Gakuto, it seemed pretty unfair of Hiyoshi's dad to take him out of Hyotei once he stopped doing tennis, as if that was the only reason he was there.

Luckily for Kirihara, Hiyoshi didn't always work during school hours. Gakuto made sure to tell the Rikkai boy everything he knew about his roommate's schedule. 

= = =

Kirihara watched Hiyoshi teach his class every once in a while. 

He taught kids. He was serious with them but patient. Occasionally, rarely even, Hiyoshi would smile at something they did or said and Kirihara felt his crush flare up. 

Then his eyes would come up across the street and his smile would vanish, and Kirihara would realize he was spotted. He bolted.

It wasn't hopeless, though. Mukahi said Hiyoshi did actually eat the yakisoba, he witnessed it at least once. Kirihara wondered if Hiyoshi realized it was from the same place they went that day. Probably not. But it was.

Kirihara was really trying. Trying to follow the advice of that Oshitari guy, he was the one who dated Atobe. Everyone knew about that. 

_That_ was the guy giving Kirihara advice?

He’d take it!

Oshitari said to write notes and bring him something each and every day. Mukahi said it was to prove that he wouldn't disappear again–just be around all the time. 

“This will require sacrifices!” he explained and Oshitari nodded seriously in agreement.

First, Oshitari made sure Kirihara knew everything he had done wrong. That wasn't fun. He almost kicked that guy’s ass, insulting him when he didn't even know what he was talking about–

Except he was _right_. 

These people were Hiyoshi’s friends. He couldn't get mad, they were only looking out for him. And they were right. Kirihara did not deserve another chance, because he had wasted his last few chances and he had broken all of his promises. But Oshitari said he was so “moved” by the story, or whatever, that he'd dedicate his romantic expertise to the cause.

Well, Mukahi said that part. 

1\. Leave notes. He wrote notes every time, but he never knew what to write.

> Hiyoshi-
> 
> Some girls in my class were talking about UFOs and I told them my friend took a picture of one. 
> 
> -Akaya

2\. Show him dedication. 

He had to consistently appear. It would take awhile. He couldn't just show up a few times and vanish – that's where he went wrong the first time. And the second time. Kirihara had to prove he wouldn't disappear again.

He was diligent, but he longed more and more to hear Hiyoshi say his name.

He wasn't obsessed with him or anything! He was just doing what Hiyoshi said he should have done. _Trying_. Kirihara wasn't going to let a little space and time keep them from being friends, at least, not anymore.

Friends. He didn't want to be just friends with Hiyoshi. He couldn’t forget how he knew him, and even though things were different from when they were 15 and holding hands…

Well, there was the memory of Nationals. He remembered that very, very, very well. He studied that memory more than anything in school.

= = =

“Hiyoshi, you're cut.”

“S-sir?”

“You won't be playing tennis with Hyotei anymore.”

“Coach–”

Kirihara watched in silence with his team from across the walkway where the coach dismissed Hiyoshi from the tennis team. Kirihara couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“You should have managed your priorities better, Hiyoshi.” Atobe said, not as loudly, and from the angle Kirihara saw Hiyoshi’s wide eyes and absolutely crestfallen face.

And in a sensation unfamiliar to the Rikkai teen, Kirihara felt like he had been punched in the gut, as though he was the one who was cut from the team

“Akaya, lets go.” 

His team went off in the opposite direction of Hyotei’s, who left Hiyoshi standing in the dust. Kirihara straggled, walked backwards to see what Hiyoshi would do. He wondered if he even noticed the other people there. Hiyoshi’s tennis bag dropped to the ground, the hand that lost it moving to comb through his straight honey hair, it stuck out a little when it fell.

Kirihara couldn't stop himself from following him when he started walking fast to a locker room.

But when he opened the door, he was horrified with the realization that seeing Kirihara would make Hiyoshi’s day even worse. So when he saw Hiyoshi's startled eyes, a look of pure confusion...

Kirihara loved that look of confusion. It wasn't sad, or scared, or angry. Hiyoshi was simply confused. Kirihara so badly wanted it to stay that way: not angry, not sad.

So he confused him even more. Before Hiyoshi knew what was happening, Kirihara had stepped up to him and breathed on his face and closed his eyes and, then and there, he kissed him.

Kirihara thought maybe he was just being selfish. He expected to be punched, for Hiyoshi to really make him regret it (as if he already didn't), but at least he could kiss Hiyoshi, give him one last hug...

Hiyoshi _let himself be hugged._

It was amazing. Kirihara missed him so much, he realized when Hiyoshi hugged him back, tight, opening his mouth and letting Kirihara in. So he risked it all. He pressed against Hiyoshi, their bodies together, pushing his back into the locker. They kissed hot and fast, no words would be getting in. Hiyoshi's arms tightened around Kirihara, who learned to kiss differently in their years apart.

As much as he loved the way they used to kiss, he wanted to learn what the other ways were like. He kept their mouths locked but stole an arm from his hug, sticking a hand on Hiyoshi's hip and sliding it up his side. He felt Hiyoshi's body through his shirt, toned warm muscle. It was exhilarating, the way that they kissed, tongues in each other's mouths, and how Hiyoshi bit Kirihara’s lip once– a punishment, one not nearly enough.

He was high from it– making out with Hiyoshi with their hands all over each other, Hiyoshi's fistful of Kiriharas shirt, the way Hiyoshi waved his hips and dragged his knuckles up Kirihara’s spine. Kirihara forgot everything else.

High because Kirihara wasn't just kissing Hiyoshi. They were kissing each other.

And it was _hot._ Kirihara imagined and felt the skin under his shirt, thoughts entering were joy and ideas of all the ways it could get even better.

Then Sanada showed up and Kirihara said some stupid shit in Hiyoshi’s ear and it was over. He was gone. 

The memory of it wasn’t _bad, _but above all it was… embarrassing. Neither of them were in a right state and he took advantage of Hiyoshi when he was vulnerable. Kirihara was sure Hiyoshi would rather forget about it. In fact, he would probably prefer not remember that day at all. Kirihara felt it was best to pretend it never happened, so he made sure not to mention it.

= = =

What Hiyoshi ever saw in the guy, he did not know. For there was a fatal fact that simply could not be ignored:

Kirihara Akaya was an idiot.

Why on earth would Hiyoshi want to eat yakisoba every single day? It was bad enough that he was coming to the dojo daily, bringing him lunch he did not want nor ask for, but it was the same lunch! Over and over!

And it wasn't even the right yakisoba. Yes, it had the egg on top, as he ordered it years ago. But it also had pickled red ginger, and Hiyoshi was not a fan. Not that he could tell Kirihara that, or anything. That would require talking to him.

Instead, each day he puzzled over what the hell he was going to do with all this yakisoba. There was some in their fridge at all times. Gakuto had eaten some twice. Oshitari had some. Hiyoshi even brought some to his brother.

He didn't like to throw away food, to be wasteful. But he simply couldn't eat it all. 

And he had eaten it. The first day, he was starving, he ate it, and hated himself for it. He was angry with himself for eating Kirihara's gift, so the second day he gave it to Gakuto.

But now it had been two weeks! Every day, for two weeks, Kirihara brought Hiyoshi lunch with a stupid note. 

He had to do something. It needed to stop. There were other issues, as well. The other instructors he worked with were asking questions. Of course, Hiyoshi offered them yakisoba, first. Then, if they still had questions, he said it was a lost delivery man.

But a lost delivery man every day?

What was Hiyoshi supposed to say? Ah, an ex-... an ex was stalking him and delivering the same fucking lunch every day of the week. Why? Great question! To what... Win Hiyoshi back? What part of this was supposed to achieve that?

Unfortunately, Hiyoshi had to admit that Kirihara was now on his mind every day. _When will he show up with that damn yakisoba today? What am I going to do with it? I wonder if the kids would eat it later. Maybe if I collect it for a few days Gakuto can bring it to his Russian study group_. 

Now that Kirihara had become a living nightmare, back in his life through this odd sort of torture, Hiyoshi could sleep easily at night. But each day he dreaded the bright shifty eyes of a not-subtle delivery boy (who must be… skipping school? for this futile mission), ducking in, leaving behind a bag and the smell of fried noodles to disrupt the dojo. 

Even if Hiyoshi closed the door, he would open it later to find the food on the doorstep. "Dammit," he muttered each time, and brought it in. One time it rained, so he didn't feel bad about throwing it away. He had to eat it some days or the guilt of wasted food would wear away at him.

At least he could say in the maintenance of his pride: after the first one, he never read the notes.

= = =

It finally happened. Hiyoshi was forced to meet Kirihara face to face.

He was late arriving home from work and Kirihara was delivering his daily yakisoba, leaving it outside the apartment door. The bastard knew his schedule and thought he would have already been home.

He wanted to turn and backtrack but a Kirihara spotted him, bag still in hand. Hiyoshi swallowed hard and strengthened his resolve, determined to get past him and go inside.

Kirihara waited for him at the door with a nervous smile. It didn't suit him. Hiyoshi went to unlock it and Kirihara leaned against the wall, speaking softly.

“It’s good to see you.”

Hiyoshi flinched, hopefully Kirihara didn’t notice. He wanted to say, _can't say the same,_ but thought he was better off just ignoring him.

Then he couldn't stop himself, because something had been bothering him for weeks. He didn't look at Kirihara, but he spoke clearly.

"Are you skipping school to do this?"

"Hiyoshi... Do you care about me?" Kirihara smiled, it was mostly a joke, surely, but something in Hiyoshi snapped. He glared.

"I think you're an idiot to waste your education like this,” he spat. Suddenly, all his annoyance to this point broke him. Hiyoshi snatched the bag from Kirihara's hold and started down the hall outside his apartment. Kirihara followed.

"You don't realize how lucky you are to even have the opportunity," Hiyoshi said with disdain, aware that Kirihara was following him. "and you waste it.” Kirihara stopped abruptly when Hiyoshi opened a door in the wall, “For _this.”_ He flung the bag of yakisoba into it– the trash chute. He spun and looked Kirihara in the eye. "You’re disgusting."

“Hiyoshi–”

“You think I want to be responsible for someone throwing their life away?” he hissed. “And, since you havent noticed, nobody wants to eat the same fucking yakisoba every fucking day.” Kirihara opened his mouth to speak, but Hiyoshi couldn’t stop. “I dont read your fucking dumbass notes, or eat your fucking food. The smell of it every time you bring it makes me want to throw up. All you do is bring me trash! Why won’t you leave me the hell alone?” He raised his voice and truly faced Kirihara now. “Why don’t you GET it? I don’t want _anything_ to do with you! You coming here every day isn't impressive, or admirable, or whatever the hell you think it is. You're pathetic. It’s creepy, you're-- you're a _stalker_! You’re a fucking stalker!"

He felt himself shaking, fists tight while he spoke. He had watched Kirihara’s expression melt with every word, but it wasn’t until after his rant that he was clear-headed enough to think about it, and it gave him a weird feeling in his gut. Hiyoshi breathed and waited for his response, but Kirihara opened his mouth only to close it again. 

Finally, he spoke, and his voice shook too. “F...fine.” He wouldn’t look at Hiyoshi. With hands raised in defeat he backed away. “I get it. I’ll… I’ll fuck off.” 

Hiyoshi’s stomach plummeted to his feet. Everything in his brain screamed, _WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! _Kirihara looked _so hurt_. Hiyoshi’s instincts ignored every way Kirihara had wronged him, and he felt as guilty as he’d ever felt in his life. Swallowing this, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching a hand out, roughly calling out, “Kirihara…” to what? Take it back? But Kirihara shrunk away further from reach and started down the hall, head down. “Bye.” 

Hiyoshi brought his hand back, disappointed at his own reaction. _This is what you wanted, right?_ So why did he feel so damn awful about it? 

He turned to return to his apartment and caught Gakuto diving back inside. _Shit. _

“Damn, Hiyoshi… That was _really_ mean.” 

Hiyoshi had barely entered the room before he turned to him and threw a punch. Gakuto blocked it before it hit his shoulder. 

“Dude!?” 

Hiyoshi went for another hit, messily, one that Gakuto could reflect. “Hiyoshi, what the fuck?” He kicked Gakuto in the thigh so Gakuto kicked him back. 

Hiyoshi backed away and held up his fists, gravity centered. “Fight me,” he said, voice hoarse. It was a plea, but he’d never make it sound like one. 

Gakuto sighed and got in his own stance before he started throwing hits. Hiyoshi was fighting like shit. He caught some, he let others hit– Gakuto noticed and wasn’t taking it seriously. “Fight me,” Hiyoshi repeated, more desperately and punched Gakuto square in the chest. Gakuto fell back a few steps and clutched his chest, eyebrows furrowing. He started throwing high kicks and Hiyoshi let them hit him, then he fought back. He stopped dodging punches and simply returned them, and if Gakuto refused to hit him hard enough, Hiyoshi got a hit in to remind him. 

He wished he could fight his dad, or his brother. Gakuto wasn’t as skilled as they were, but he was good enough, and Hiyoshi really felt like getting hit. It didn’t mean you were losing– it meant you could take it. If you could continue, it was a sign of strength. Welcome distractions, the impact of every kick Gakuto landed on his body throbbed, until finally he clocked Hiyoshi real good in the jaw, sending him on his ass. 

Hiyoshi hit the ground with a grunt. That was higher than expected, enough to catch him off guard, and it would leave a bruise. Gakuto twirled his ankle. Hiyoshi bet it hurt his foot to kick him that hard.

“Are you done?” Gakuto asked, patiently. “We can keep going, since you want the shit beaten out of you, apparently. I don’t mind,” he added with a chuckle. “But it won’t make you any less of an asshole.”

Hiyoshi lay back on the floor, sighing. He finally let himself remember what happened outside, and it reminded him why he wanted to fight in the first place. 

“I meant what I said,” he lied to his roommate. 

“You’re so full of shit. ‘Makes you want to throw up?’ _Seriously? _You’ve eaten that yakisoba for weeks.” Gakuto walked over and offered a hand to help him up. Hiyoshi didn’t take it.

“It doesn’t matter. He said he’d leave me alone now, so whatever I said worked.”

He turned his bruising face to glare at Gakuto. “This is your fault, too, for telling him where I worked. Don’t look so innocent.” He closed his eyes again and relaxed on the floor, facing the ceiling. His voice softened. “I know he told you something. I’m not sure what he said to get you to help him, but trust me, he doesn’t deserve your help.”

“I know,” Gakuto admitted. Hiyoshi opened an eye to him.

“He told me what happened, Hiyoshi. He doesn’t deserve shit. But he really wants to make it up to you, and you were drinking all my vodka, so.” Gakuto shrugged.

Hiyoshi scoffed and closed his eyes again. “You should have minded your own damn business.”

“Since when do I ever mind my own business? You should have told me. I wouldn’t have invited him over again if I knew. I’m sorry, by the way, okay? I feel really shitty about it.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t know,” Hiyoshi mumbled, feeling tired, suddenly.

“Yeah, because you didn’t tell me. But still. I’m sorry.”

Hiyoshi mumbled incoherently in response.

“I’ll leave you alone, I’m gonna go meet Yuushi. But I want to say, for the record, I think he really does have good intentions. He cares about you, dude. He’s just a dumbass about it. Like, a real dumbass. But he’s trying to grow up, so–”  
  
“It’s too late, Mukahi-san.” Hiyoshi was sick of hearing it, especially from someone who was supposed to be his friend. “He said he would leave me alone. You can stop.”

Gakuto paused at the doorway, grasping the edge of the door and tapping it in thought. “Right,” he finally said. “Well, seeya.” Hiyoshi heard the door click shut.

He was left lying on the floor, all alone. With a sigh, the martial artist sat up. He needed to get an ice pack.

= = =

Two days passed. Two, blissfully Kirihara-free days.

His absence was felt. Mostly in the form of paranoia.

On the third day, Hiyoshi returned home and spotted a plastic bag outside the door. His first feeling was resignation. Of course, the dumbass would be impossible to get rid of, after all. But as he neared, there was no smell like he expected. Curiosity piqued, he opened the bag to inspect its contents.

It held… Books. Two novels, by Stephen King. Before Hiyoshi could remind himself not to, he found himself opening the folded sheet of notebook paper that was loose in the bag.

> I waited until after school to buy these. I know you won’t trash books. 
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Akaya
> 
> P.S. You do read my dumbass notes, or else you wouldn’t know theyre dumb.
> 
> P.P.S Turn the page over

Hiyoshi fought the turn of his lips, something like a smile that wanted to form. _I didn’t have to read your notes to know they were dumb, _was his first thought.   
The smile he fought back was not because he was pleased, but because he was incredulous at what he found on the back of the paper: Kirihara’s fucking phone number.


	25. Try

Hiyoshi’s words from their fight that day stuck with Gakuto hard, up until one afternoon.

Yuushi was over at the apartment, and they were talking about how Kirihara stopped skipping everything but tennis to bring Hiyoshi’s lunch to the dojo. Now, as they advised him, he was dropping off books every few days, since he couldn’t afford a new one every day.

Gakuto was impressed. So many of these things were Yuushi’s ideas, and they were working on Hiyoshi, because Gakuto spied him reading Kirihara’s notes– rereading them, even.

Kirihara wanted it just that badly, and he was making it happen.

Which made him think.

What was Yuushi doing to win Kota-san back?

After all, Kirihara had a lot more damage to undo. He wanted it badly enough to go to all these measures, and he and Hiyoshi were never really ‘in love’ or anything.

So finally, like a dumbass for having missed the obvious for so damn long, Gakuto got it:

Yuushi didn’t want her back.

And in that moment he knew it so confidently, he felt it in his gut, he was on fire inside. But he looked up at Yuushi and couldn’t do anything about it. He knew Yuushi was free to be his, that Hiyoshi was right. And Yuushi was sitting there, looking at him back, going, “Gakuto, what is it?” But Gakuto couldn’t move. He couldn’t take any action at all.

_What if I’m wrong?_

He stared at Yuushi. This man was not in love with his high school girlfriend. 

He was here.

He was always here. 

When was the last time he’d been to Osaka?

How many afternoons had he spent here, this week alone?

Yuushi betrayed nothing of his feelings looking at Gakuto in his confusion right now, but Gakuto's thoughts flew at the speed of light. He understood. 

Yuushi didn’t love her. He didn’t want her. 

He was right where he wanted to be.

Gakuto stopped watching him and turned abruptly to his phone, opening a game, and quickly came up with some type of response.

“Nothing, I was just thinking. I’m hungry. Considering take out.”

“I was thinking the same thing. What should we get?”

_What should we get._ It was like they were already dating.

“Maybe for Hiyoshi, too,” Gakuto added.

“Ahhh Yes. Unless Kirihara has him covered.”

He chuckled and Gakuto made himself chuckle too, but his blood was on fire. His roommate was expected home soon, but there was definitely no Hiyoshi in Yuushi’s “we”.

_Holy shit._


	26. Thursdays

Thursday dinners with Gakuto staying over had long become routine. Everyone involved agreed that it felt right, having him around again, much to Yuushi’s pleasure. “My second son,” his mom said, and she would pretend to be dry all the while trapping Gakuto in a hug. Yuushi wondered if she knew how much it meant to him. Gakuto said the best part was that they all cooked well, too, but they all knew the place had more happy memories than his own family home.

This week the two hadn’t seen each other at all. Yuushi was skipping chemistry for special hospital visits, a med student thing. Gakuto was busy too, and they never really confirmed plans. But he heard the knock on the door that evening, and it was no surprise. Gakuto stuck his tongue out and walked right in, heading past him to greet his parents. 

= = =

“So Yuushi,” Gakuto couldn’t resist another bite before continuing, “How’s it going with the hospital visits? I don’t really know how it works.” He turned to acknowledge Dr. Oshitari for possible input– he worked at a hospital for a different university. 

Yuushi sighed and slunk back in his chair a bit. But all he said was, “They’re going well,” and he sat up straight again to continue eating. Dr. Oshitari chuckled. Gakuto whipped his head between them, out of the loop. His eyes landed on Yuushi’s mom across the table, who just smiled. 

“What? I don’t get it.” 

Yuushi finished his bite. “It’s not exactly… “ he cocked his head side to side, finding words, “...dinner appropriate.” And he continued eating. Gakuto looked back to Dr. Oshitari who had a knowing smile. He waited for him to finish his bite too, and he chuckled a bit more to explain. 

“Our students have it this week as well. It’s a bit gruesome, Gakuto. It is a way the schools weed out the faint of heart.”

Gakuto was starting to get it, but didn’t really understand. “...Do you have to see a bunch of dying people?” he whispered, hoping not to offend if he was wrong, but Yuushi was nodding. 

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Not _dying_,” his father chided, and Yuushi shrugged innocently. 

“The students tour to see many types of patients, in varying states of ill health. Part of it is just watching doctors do the not-so-pretty work. I had a girl with me today who said, ‘ew’ out loud, she’s not in the program anymore.” 

Yuushi _snorted, _which made Gakuto gape even more than the information itself. _“Yuushi,” _his mom hushed him, but Gakuto was still in shock. 

“Did the patient hear her?!” 

“Oh, no. No no no. Thankfully.” 

Yuushi was full out laughing now, and his dad apparently found it infectious. Yuushi tried to swallow before speaking, “that would be so bad,” and they laughed harder. Gakuto couldn’t help but smile as the Oshitari men cracked up, as terrible as it was, and saw his mom struggle against her own grin. She gave Gakuto a knowing look and shoved a big bite in her mouth, with more grace than he’d thought possible, and she winked at her own genius tactic.

_God, I missed this._ It hurt his chest, how good it felt to be at this dinner table, watching Yuushi warm up and laugh with his dad, even if they were terrible.

“You have to have a sense of humor to be in the medical field,” his father said. Yuushi got serious again and nodded sagely, and it was Gakuto’s turn to laugh.

= = =

Dinners at his house were definitely more fun with Gakuto. They were always nice, but often quiet. Boring, in comparison to tonight. They might have had the same conversation, but with brows twitched and a chuckle at most. Their laughs tonight were because of his energy– not laughing at him, but still caused by Gakuto’s confused expression, his whispering “_dying people_,” Mom trying to make them behave in front of their poor ‘guest’. _He is family_, he smiled to himself, deciding it could have more definitions if it needed to, because all that mattered was Gakuto was Back.

The conversation peaked at that point, but they still talked shop. “At your hospital they have more experimental trials, right? I thought that would have been interesting to see, but I’m not sure if they’d let me go over there. If you think it’s okay, I might ask my advisor.”

Nobody looked up, everyone was eating quietly. Like they hadn’t even heard Yuushi.

His dad responded up after a few seconds. “I don’t see why not. It isn’t standard, but there is no rivalry in that sense. You could ask.” He nodded at Yuushi and returned to his food, and seconds later he caught his parents share the quickest glance. He looked at Gakuto, who was shoveling curry. When he realized Yuushi was watching him, he gave him a sly look, mouthed ‘_curry_,’ and went back to it. Whatever. He would ask his advisor tomorrow, in any case.

= = =

Gakuto joined him in his bed after using the bath. He poked him in the back over and over until Yuushi lazily rolled over to face him. 

“How may I be of assistance?” He poked him back in the shoulder, hard. 

Gakuto pouted, and it filled Yuushi with warmth like every other time. He didn’t stop himself from smiling, maybe from the atmosphere of the night. 

“How’s it going with Kota-san?”

“Not great.” Yuushi sighed. Why were they doing this? Why was Yuushi screwing around with his own life, playing dumb to how he knew it would all really turn out?

“How’s Hiyoshi?”

Gakuto poked him hard with an eye roll. 

“We stopped fucking.”

Yuushi poked him back, that was news. “Reeeeally? Was this a joint decision?”

Gakuto poked him back and sighed. “It kind of just happened. Around when he made us start fighting. Like we’d literally be lying on the floor after 15 minutes of hitting each other, _right there, _and one of us would be like, ‘Wanna fuck?’ And we’d just be like ‘Not really’ and ‘Yeah me neither.’”

“Wow,” Yuushi hesitated before deciding where to poke him next, on his wrist beside the pillow. “That’s the opposite of what I expected. Kirihara might finally be getting to him.”

Gakuto poked him in the eye, _ow, what the hell, “_I know, right?” He turned onto his back. After a bit, he continued, and the subject got more serious.

“Sorry, Yuushi. There’s so much I haven’t told you,” his whisper even softer. 

“That’s alright. You will when you’re ready, I believe.” That was what Yuushi had always thought. Besides, he wasn't in a place to demand answers.

“Yeah, it’s just. A lot of stuff, y’know?” He closed his eyes and Yuushi thought maybe he was falling asleep.

“Hmm. Hey, Yuushi.”

“Uh huh?” He poked Gakuto on the side of his arm. Hard muscle.

He turned his head to look at Yuushi, the minimal moonlight caught in serious eyes. 

“Are you jealous? of Hiyoshi?”

That was a question. Yuushi lied on his back as well, looked up. “I don’t think I have the right to be jealous.”

“You don’t need rights to be jealous. You are or you aren’t,” he said it so simply. Yuushi swallowed, it was best to be honest. He couldn’t let Gakuto apologize about not telling him everything, and then hide things from him. Yuushi, as he realized so refreshingly, didn’t even want to. He’d been hiding things from everyone for years, and he never really felt like he had to hide things from Gakuto.

“Of course I’m jealous,” he whispered reluctantly. He chose words carefully. “You may consider me your best friend, but in an objective sense, Hiyoshi is the best friend you have. Don’t argue, it’s nothing we can help. Doesn’t he discount your rent? A lot?”

Gakuto closed his mouth again. 

“To be fair, he threatened to kick me out if I didn’t practice martial arts.” And he snorted and suddenly they were in a fit of hushed laughs despite the gravity of the question.

Gakuto simmered down and looked at him again, eyes big and curious with no avenue of escape, and it scared Yuushi a little. Those eyes seemed like they could read him, even if he was a brick wall. ‘_You’re kind of predictable but really hard to read, Yuushi.’ _But Gakuto hadn’t said that in years. Maybe Rusa really had made him soft. _Or maybe you’re paranoid because Gakuto went to Russian spy school. _

“I don’t resent him, or anything. He was there for you when you needed it, when I couldn’t be. Yeah, I know,” he shut Gakuto up with a side glance. “It was a coincidence, but it’s still true. And I’m glad someone was there. Gakuto, you have a place to _live_ because of him, and as welcome as you are in this bed–“ that came out wrong, Gakuto raised his eyebrows. “_In my house, _I mean, you know it isn’t the same.”

“You know, Yuushi. I feel like you’re scolding me for taking Hiyoshi for granted. But all I asked was if you were jealous.” Gakuto bit back a smile. He was absolutely right. 

Yuushi sighed, “Yes, I am, but I don’t let it bother me. He just knows so much about you I still have to learn.” Yuushi swallowed, there was more he wouldn’t say, there always was, but he tried, “He got to see you there, see your environment.” _Kiss you more than once. _“He shares your world of martial arts,”_ He got to have sex with you, all the time_. Shake that one off. It’s one thing to stop lying to one’s self about loyalties and feelings and where they lie– it’s another thing to imagine having sex with the platonic friend currently in the same bed.

“He doesn’t know much either. I still blindside him with stories sometimes. But he’s told me, stuff.” He rolled onto his side toward Yuushi again. 

“I’m glad you have faith. That I’ll tell you everything in time, and yeah, of course I will. I always do. But. You’re not like me.”

Yuushi rolled to his side as well.

Gakuto sounded small, “Are you gonna tell me everything, too?”

Yuushi swallowed and couldn’t speak for a few seconds, why did that _hurt_?

“...Gakuto_...”_

Gakuto rolled to his other side, “It’s okay, I won’t force you to talk about things you don't want to talk about.” _No! No._

Yuushi grabbed his shoulder and the front of his shirt and made him face him again. “I will tell you absolutely anything you ask.”

_Do you love me?_ Yuushi wondered how he’d answer that.

“Were you ever going to tell me about Atobe?”

Yuushi saw his sad eyes and couldn't breathe as he felt his heart stop. He wasn’t prepared to answer this.

“You haven’t told me anything, Yuushi.”

“It wasn’t my best moment.”

“You mean it wasn’t your best year and a half?”

Gakuto was _mad._ Yuushi expected cold reception to the story, bitterness maybe, but he thought Gakuto would play it cool. 

Not the case. He was angry, his eyes showed it.

“Where should I begin?”

“How long?” 

“How long what?” Yuushi solidified himself under that glare.

“How long after I left did you wait?” Gakuto’s mouth trembled, shut in a tight line after asking. _Shit._

Yuushi closed his eyes for a second before opening them to answer. “About 2 and a half months.”

Gakuto immediately laughed, just one incredulous breath of laughter, rolling his eyes as he rolled onto his back. His hair landed in his face but he made no effort to move it. “Now I know why you didn’t tell me,” he said in a teasing tone, but his voice was gravelly. Yuushi felt the guilt like rocks burying him. 

“Not that it makes a difference, but do you want to hear my excuses?”

_“Sure, _Yuushi.”

“It was very sudden. And I wasn’t in a good place. Mentally.”

“Uh huh.”

“I didn’t have any friends.”

Gakuto gave him side eye, let hair fall from his face. “Bullshit.” 

“Gakuto, I hated everything and everyone. What happened with you… I was messed up,” he laughed a little, “I let myself take it out on other people.” Now Yuushi’s voice was gravelly. “People finally just left me alone.”

Gakuto finally turned to face him, eyes watching him, listening. The other side of his hair fell in his face but didn’t cover his eyes. Yuushi continued.

“I skipped classes and stopped talking to people. All I did was play tennis.”

“Is it true you beat Atobe?”

Yuushi opened his mouth and closed it again. Finally he took a breath. “Hiyoshi told you that?” 

Gakuto nodded.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t really remember, just that I was so angry afterwards. It felt like Atobe was holding back, but I was also playing really well. I couldn’t tell the difference, it was probably the best game I ever played. Every ball I hit felt like it was on fire. I felt powerful. I hit everything perfectly, nothing went out, it was like I was flying. That’s how it felt, at least. I kept playing tennis to get that feeling again but it never really came back.” 

“Wow.” Gakuto visibly swallowed. Yuushi felt bad.

“It was the best I felt in two months. I didn’t have friends or you or my sanity but I could hit a ball,” Yuushi laughed nervously. “But I still thought Atobe was holding back because he kept _smiling_, like he was up to something and nobody can ever figure out what he’s thinking, he’s kind of insane, you know that. I thought I was just one big experiment and I suppose the fiery feeling didn’t wear off when I won, and I called him out.”

“What was the score?”

“6-4.”

Gakuto’s mouth opened and he closed it again, but his eyes had widened. “Wow,” he whispered. He tucked his hair behind his ear and buried his hands under his pillow, listening.

“I missed you though. I felt bad that you weren’t there.”

“Yuushi…”

“On the court. That I never played like that with you.”

“Yuushi, it’s fine. You were probably better off playing singles anyway.”

_Don’t say that. _Yuushi frowned. It’s not like they would ever know for sure.

“Well at the time, I felt bad. I told you it was the happiest feeling I’d had since the day we last hung out, and I felt bad that I was playing without you.”

Gakuto frowned and bit his lip. “Sorry,” he whispered. Yuushi grabbed his hand from under the pillow.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. I’m just telling you what happened.” Gakuto let him hold his hand and nodded. He squeezed Yuushi’s, and Yuushi continued.

“After the match I was angry and Coach made me go to the locker room and I guess the feeling wore off and I had some kind of breakdown.”

_“Yuushi…” _Gakuto’s worried eyes hurt way more than they should have, Yuushi shook his head.

“It happened a few times,” it happened a lot, “but I really missed you that day and I was very... Lonely. I think everyone on the team felt more lonely without you.” Yuushi grinned to make Gakuto stop looking so sad. It didn’t work.

“So, I was upset and Atobe came into the locker room after a while and came right up to me while I was busy feeling sorry for myself. I told him to fuck off.”

Gakuto snorted. “Did you really say that? You told Atobe to ‘fuck off’?”

“Yes.” 

Gakuto raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“Unlike everyone else, he wouldn’t leave me alone. That pissed me off at the time, too. He just sat down next to me and told me it was rude to suffer alone and then I… lost it.”

Gakuto squeezed his hand again.

“He just sat there and listened to me have a breakdown. And he told me he’d find you.”

“And then?”

Yuushi looked away. “Then we kissed.”

Gakuto let go of his hand. He sighed and turned onto his back again. “Oh.”

“And that’s what happened.”

“I see.”

Gakuto yawned and it seemed fake. He turned to face away from Yuushi and Yuushi wondered how it was possible that could physically hurt the way it did.

“We fought a lot. I was still broken up. He accused me of only being with him to find you.” He saw Gakuto’s body move with a scoff.

“So I’d get fed up and break up with him. And he'd pick me up in a limo two days later as I was walking home from school. And that kept happening until finally I had to quit tennis. It was the only way to end it.”

“You quit tennis, huh?”

“After that I met Rusa. And I got better. I finally told my parents what happened with you.”

Gakuto turned his head a little. “They didn't know?”

Yuushi shook his head. “They had to put up with a lot of my bullshit. I’m very lucky.”

“Yeah, you are.” Gakuto curled up facing the room, quiet.

“He probably knew where you were the whole time and didn't say anything just to control me. Who knows…”

He waited for Gakuto to say something confirming his suspicions, but he was silent and motionless.

“Goodnight, Gakuto.”

No response. Yuushi shut his eyes real tight and turned to face the wall._ At least I was honest. _That’s what Gakuto deserved. But part of Yuushi, the part that wanted Gakuto to still be in love with him, wondered if he just broke it all apart.


	27. The Discovery

It was Monday, and Gakuto still hadn’t texted him after hearing about Atobe. Yuushi knew he’d be back, he was accustomed to this; these periods of pouting while Gakuto took the time he needed to stop being annoyed with him. Unless he was more upset than Yuushi realized.

He’d worry about it after his trip to his father’s hospital, where he hoped he wouldn’t run into him. Yuushi wanted no part of nepotism whispers, though they were never negative. He just had higher ambitions than that. _Doctors Oshitari across Japan._

The tours were somewhat freeform, they had permission to visit windowed surgeries, and eventually they were granted access to the experimental trials ward. The doctors explained that these trials were unapproved for standard use and generally last ditch efforts in terms of treatment options, but lives could be saved–these patients lives, or those of people in the future thanks to the knowledge these trials would gather. There were all kinds of ailments; a lot of late stage cancer, spine disorders, some completely undiagnosed, multi-symptom diseases. 

Yuushi and some others were idling around by the front desk waiting for the guiding doctor to return. There were actually a lot of students from different university hospitals here, apparently Yuushi had a popular idea.

His eyes skirted across different parts of the room, to a clipboard on the desk next to where he stood. His eyes scanned down a list of patient names, perfectly common names, just a list to read to occupy his brain–

He stopped.

His brain lagged a bit and he squinted at the very simple kanji and unsquinted and squinted again; no, no, he was right.

“Mukahi”

The doctor had come to get them, he thought, but they left him behind which was fine because he couldn’t hear anything but muffled activity, and everything was blurred except number 8 on the list, and his head was putting so much together, the additional emotional pressure weighed his mind down to breaking point.

_Dinner. His parents’ look._

_Gakuto, curry, he knew the whole time._

_Gakuto was back._

_He was allowed back to Japan, okay, but he’s an adult, but still._

_How was he paying for rent? For university?_

_Where was the aftermath of his return? Where was the old discourse that sent him running to Yuushi on weeknights, for years?_

Yuushi was thinking all of these things but not actually processing them, just repeating them like a mantra to himself as he numbly stepped down an empty hall, following a path to the number on the page. He paused in front of the door, confirming the name on the placard, rendered absolutely motionless with anxiety.

_Maybe it’s just the same name, but a different person, _and he had no idea where the courage came from, that put his hand on the door, that forced the handle down, that moved his arm forward to open it.

And he didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t peel his eyes away from where he would see what he had come to see.

There was a man beneath the tubes. Not a big man, not a strong man, a person of tubes himself. Yuushi was glad he couldn’t see much skin, because he knew it wouldn’t be pleasant to look at, bruised by needles and IVs and sick, it would be sick skin, because this was a sick man.

He was intubated, so he couldn’t speak or anything. Nobody was visiting him, but he felt a stab to his gut when he recognized Nori’s manga on a table next to the bed.

He took this all in because he was afraid to look where it mattered. He knew his own face was stone, because so was his entire body.

Through all the medicine and equipment and plastic he found eyes wide open, staring at Yuushi.

He made no effort to press a button, to call for help, but there was no fear, either. Deep inside, to be expressed much later, this infuriated Yuushi. _He should fear me, with such an advantage I could end him for what he did, and he would deserve– _

But Yuushi didn’t have space for that right now.

He met those eyes, those unblinking eyes, and he knew.

This was no coma. This was no out-of-sorts, delirious patient. This man was sane, he was awake– even if most of this man would beg to differ, these eyes were _alive. _And achingly familiar.

Gakuto’s father was staring at Yuushi _hard. _Yuushi knew what to do, he was so good at it already– the coldest, hardest unblinking gaze he could muster, he delivered it right back. He wanted to say something, wanted to be mad, wanted to yell _I’m back, he’s back, I hate you for what you've done to him, you did not win,_ but this pathetic man knew all of that.

To his credit, he did not back down. The man held his ground in this staring contest, and once the time felt right, Yuushi turned on his heel and left.

= = =

He wondered when he would start to feel again. The longer Yuushi went like this, completely devoid of emotion, the worse it crashed when it returned.

He went through the motions. Looking straight ahead he moved his legs forward, down halls until they were familiar. He dumped his borrowed white coat into a basket, found an elevator. If he had his normal critical thinking skills he would have taken the stairs to avoid his father’s colleagues, but alas.

He lucked out but had no ability to appreciate it, and when he passed the glass doors he went blind. 

It was bright outside. Light reflected across the hospital windows, Tokyo existed all around him, completely uncaring of the cushioned life of a 19-year-old med student.

Soon the thoughts would be back, but now he was a soulless golem looking for a place to sit.

His thoughts came back in levels.

For example, he was far from processing any emotions or opinions, but he could consider what he should do next.

He texted his mother.

> Y: they have the same eyes

(Later he would laugh at himself and his innate poetry.)

He texted Gakuto, and his hand hovered over the keys for quite a bit before the right words were chosen.

> Y: I found out


End file.
